The Girl That Inspires So Many
by sctwilightvampwolfgal
Summary: Marinette leaves more people impressed and in awe than she'd ever expect. *Written for Marinette March.*
1. Kindness

It's what she does every year, but everytime it becomes something to look forward to, to be excited about, whether it's more of her dad's decision or hers, you really couldn't say, even if that fact mattered. She brought them to school, and they tasted amazing.

Every heartfelt gift, every smile, felt like another ripple of kindness from the relatively shy designer. Marinette held a kind of smile that could brighten anyone's day, and a kind of usually positive giving spirit regardless.

Just every macaroon was made with joint love from her parents' hands, and from her eager gifting. In fact, macaroons, a simple act of gifting, gave her her best friend.

* * *

Marinette handmade every single birthday gift, would even look into the things that she didn't know anything about to really make it count, whether it was hours on a tired night listening to metal music or rock trying to understand the band to know just what to give Ivan or whether it was a carefully made Jagged Stone scarf for Luka on the cold nights or just an attempt at love by making a blue scarf for Adrien.

She was kind to the point that others were often surprised by, even as she carefully tried drawing characters from one of Nathanael's favorite comics and already was trying to plot designs to go along with the mini comic for her friend. Everyday, it seemed like she had another kind gesture and another great idea.

It was no wonder why most of her classmates adored her or at least felt extremely kind feelings for her or why many boys harbored crushes on her that they seldom attempted to tell her about.

* * *

She's kind as she crafts a bee themed shirt for Chloe, fingers tired and sore, eyes nearly closing from the strain of spending all night working on it. It's an apology of sorts for Queen Bee, for Chloe, to make up for not trusting her before and to encourage her when she's a superhero. It takes more effort to deliberately make it for her and gift it as Marinette than she'd ever admit to struggling with.

Marinette rubs her pretty blue eyes and considers the sweet abyss of sleep, before she reminds herself that she's almost done and that it has to be perfect. Queen Bee's a good ally, no matter the size of her ege often enough, and Marinette has learned to trust her with her life. It only makes sense to pay her back somehow and to apologize.

Her hands shake from holding the needle for so long, from the careful stitching that was all hand done in her attempt to make it perfect and show that she really cared, and she knew better than to let the shaking drive her into quiting. She'd give it to her tomorrow, and get through this mess as she debates the merit of sleep for the fifty second time that night.

It took her forever to come up with this design, and she refused to back down from it.

"Marinette, honey, how about you get some sleep?" Her mother, Sabine, peeks into her room to find her still up, sewing needle in hand, carefully weaving fabric together, and trying to perfect each individual stitch.

"I can't, Maman." Everything sounds like a pun to her tired mind; did her mom say, honey, because this was for Queen Bee? Even though Marinette knows that her mom often says, honey, she still wonders.

"Marinette, you should get some sleep before tomorrow. You do not want to fall asleep in class again." Sabine chided her, with warm and well meaning intent.

"Yes." Marinette mumbles into the fabric, "I know, Maman." She hates to admit that she won't sleep until every stitch is done and will not take the easy way out. Queen Bee has earned this anyway, and any delay is just a weak, unheroic side of hers, she's sure.

Whether her mom sees the stubbornness or not in her eyes, she leaves her daughter's doorway, "Goodnight, Marinette."  
It's probably as much a command as it is a goodnight call, but Marinette rubs her tired eyes again, trying not to poke herself with the needle, and fights another yawn, and presses on.

* * *

She got what felt like five minutes of sleep the night before, but she pauses to check the shirt in the morning, glad that it looks well stitched and hand done. Marinette knows that it would have taken a lot less time to finish up, if she'd turned on her sewing machine, but somehow that is just not the same for a handmade gift.

Marinette almost doesn't want to get up for school, but she pushes herself into getting ready, triplechecking that her homework is done, because she doesn't quite remembered if she worked on it after patrol or just on Chloe's shirt. it's done, so she credits herself with getting something right, hopefully her tired eyes have seen it right.

* * *

"Chloe?" Half of its caught in a yawn, "This is for you, for Queen Bee." She holds it out on tentative fingers as if equally scared of hurting it as dropping it, but Chloe steps closer, sneer becoming something gentle instead.

"For me?" Chloe breathes out the question, "For Queen Bee?"

"Yeah, you do a lot for Ladybug, Cat Noir, and the rest. You've earned it." It's not that she wouldn't ever grow to gift Chloe things without heroics guiding her, but it's the best that she can word it now as she fights to stay on her feet and not fall asleep. Lunch break would be the perfect time for a short nap as she wasn't that hungry today anyway.

"Oh, thank you." Chloe's face flushes in surprised joy, and any harsh words are forgotten.

* * *

Needless to say that her nap doesn't come as Chloe treats her to lunch, still looking positively surprised, and wearing her new shirt that she'd rushed to put on after Marinette had given it to her. Nevermind the fact that it came as so much of a surprise that Chloe checked it for needles and pulled it on, expecting it to be either too big or too small, and yet it fit perfectly.

Some acts of kindness just surprise you until they become a memory that you will never forget.


	2. Pre-Origins

Again, she had Chloe in her class again. The near twelve year sat down by the dinner table, biting back grumbling too much over it and biting back a whole slew of angered and frustrated and sad insults. Marinette felt worn out; this happened every year for crying out loud, and Chloe was particularly mean today too.  
Marinette pouted, almost couldn't help it, and idly wished that there was a superhero to save her from this mess or that she'd become one. It was a hopeless and rather lost wish.

"Marinette, it will be okay." Sabine smiled at her as she sat down plates of food, "Besides, you're both growing up, and one day, she'll be a woman and a whole lot nicer to you. I'm sure she's just a little lost as young teenagers tend to be." She shrugged, and while she didn't even attempt to justify Chloe, it was enough to just talk about the difficulty and pain and help calm her daughter down with the hope that one day, it won't be so hard.

"How could it be? She has that wealthy family and all that privilege, and she's never, ever, nice with it." Marinette's pout got more defined as she stubbornly stared up at her mother, not quite sure what kind of answer she even wanted yet.

"But, that doesn't excuse family time. Her parents are probably very busy." She shrugged, "And besides, nothing is ever too simple." She smiled, "Just don't forget how loved and lucky you are, but also don't forget that not everyone has a family like yours." Sabine answered, hoping for the best, the balance between encouraging her and comforting her.

"Yeah, I know." Marinette frowned, "People in class don't always have two parents that spend time with them." She played with her fork as her mother watched her.

"I love you, Marinette." Sabine murmured softly, "Don't forget that you'll always be our baby girl and how much we love you. Besides you're so nice, and I'm sure that you'll find people some day that notice it too."

Marinette didn't really have many friends that she'd call that close; she spoke to them, she knew them relatively, but she wasn't ultra close with anyone, didn't have a best friend or a boyfriend. She wasn't even allowed to date yet.

"Okay." It didn't seem like it today as another year started off rather poorly.

* * *

On busy days in the bakery, she was always helping out though she couldn't help it if inspiration for designs came after baking all day and carried her into the night, but she tried to have some impulse control, just in case she was too, too tired to get up bright and early the next morning to jump head first into baking or school or homework or designing or whatever came her way.

Plus sometimes her parents took her to the movies, and they watched a great family film, often animated, while her father made murmured puns and jokes about it, and her mom tried to pay rapt attention while Marinette tried not to laugh too loud.

She was growing up, and sometimes her father's sense of humor was embarrassing, but she wasn't quite ready to just give up on it as it always made her laugh. Her dad's jokes were always the best and the worst. Besides her family wasn't full of world class comedians, and she never wanted it to be.

"So cupcakes and croissants?" Marinette asked softly as she worked to finish up the bread that she was making.

"Yeah." Her father answered.

Marinette had always helped out in the bakery for as long as she could remember and possibly longer. She'd started with simple, little tasks and now often helped out with decorating or baking from scratch. The recipes had long since become as easy as breathing to work out and remember.

She smiled as she hummed the tune to one of her favorite Jagged Stone songs as she worked; it was familiar, easy, and natural to be baking in the kitchen with her father while her mom often worked the desk out front. Marinette was usually more comfortable in the kitchen than out there talking to customers though she didn't consider herself completely shy, just a little nervous and reserved. Certainly, she could be shyer.

Marinette felt more reserved though if anyone from class were to see her with her family, they'd get a completely different idea of her as she was often talking and excited and energetic. Her family was her biggest support group and best comfort. Besides, she was just young enough to avoid some of the teenage rebellions that took place anyway, though some people never would rebel in extreme ways, and she told her parents everything.

They'd gotten her through every storm, and their steady confidence in her kept her going and often doing well as well. Marinette knew that she could trust them and wasn't afraid to share her deepest worries and concerns with them regardless.

She was still smiling when she'd finished humming that song and smiling still as she put the bread in the oven to bake and turned to help her father out. The kitchen was her safe place, her happy space, and a place during work hours that was spent pretty focused and mostly quiet, pent up frustrations or built upon sadness were disposed of in the familiar work and the mostly quiet provided calming rest for her mind.

Somedays, she wondered if she should just spend a lot of time in the kitchen, baking and being quiet and focused to just go back to the gentle stride of being yourself with no real worry to hide behind. Besides, she may one day still take over the family business, and the work was her safe haven away from the rest of the world, the steady, quiet place that rejuvinated her when nothing else would seem to.

It was as much home as the apartment upstairs.


	3. Tea Time

Somedays, age old suspicions and worries melted away with the keening of a teapot and a gentle smile that always provided a listening ear, and though any friendship took its time to grow and to flourish while hardships and doubts and distrust were fought tooth and nail to be overcome as you truly came to know the other, she felt safe in his presence, as if this great wall of all that Ladybug has to be, all that she is, and all that she was can just melt away like sugarcubes in a cup of tea.

"I'm sorry." She wasn't supposed to visit so much, and though she knew that and limited visits nowadays, it felt better to come here when she worried that there was a split between Ladybug and Marinette and that somewhere in the fray, she'd lost herself.

"Come in." Master Fu leaves the doorway and walks naturally to the teakettle, already prepared as if he knows that when she holds the teacup in her hands, softly as if it became a gentle anchor of sorts for every wild thought and theory that spilled out, unbound, once she'd gotten over that bump of worrying that Adrien Agreste was Hawkmoth. She'd come to trust Master Fu even when she held her cup despite how hot the tea was or that it sometimes burned her fingers or the fact that sometimes the mostly still liquid provided a quiet distraction to keep her from externally plummeting off the deep end as much as she felt inside.

"I hope that I didn't interrupt anything." She mumbled as if nerves found their voice among wobbly veins and worried scars that never seemed to go away. Cat Noir could be here one day when she arrives; she was sure that he knew of Master Fu by this point or at least the little hints that became glaringly obvious facts.

"I visit Cat Noir, Ladybug." And somehow, her superhero title provided a sense of warmth and escape even while not suited up, even without wearing her mask. She loved how at ease, she always seemed to feel here nowadays.

"Okay." Marinette knelt down by the table, already wondering how boiling water that will eventually become tea makes her belly rumble in eager anticipation. She had never been aware that she liked tea beyond how it seemed to miraculously cure stuffy noses and sore throats at her own home. Tea helped give you energy to face whatever life's next biggest challenges were after all.

"So what brings you here, Ladybug?" It's quiet, but not accusatory, and she can imagine this as if it were one of her first trips here, as if tea time hadn't become an escape away from everything else that held her back. Tea time invoked a kind of honesty that Ladybug craved. An honesty that dual identities blocked off from pretty much everyone else.

"I-..." The words wouldn't come, not without the steady warmth of a teacup in her hands or without the distraction of liquid that is deceptively dark for how light it often makes her feel in just a sip.

"I'll get you tea." There's something almost fatherly about it that she doesn't question anymore. Master Fu is so different than her dad that she doubts that anyone else will understand how at ease he puts her nowadays, how daughterly he makes her feel, as if he's always ready with advice and gentle care. Maybe tea does fix a lot of ailments rather miraculously despite how easy it is to think that it only cures one thing or another.

She waits in the quiet amid inner confusion; today, it was harder to keep her identity a secret from Cat. He hadn't asked for it, hadn't mentioned it, and she wasn't suddenly in love with him, but she had a million temptations regardless. He's her best friend, and a certain side of your nature is only revealed when your life is on the line. Cat Noir knows that side of her so well now, and sometimes he's there for the silly moments when they can just be kids again or teenagers and crime is just a distant memory and Hawkmoth is just a figment of their shared imaginations. Those moments are crucial though they never last long even when she wishes that they could go on forever and be there entirely.

When the tea is poured into her cup, is when the magic happens. A layer of superhero problems drift away like dust and the pain of them is numbed as she reaches out for a full cup to just hold until it eventually cools enough in her hands to drink. The heat that irritates her hands is well worth it and so familiar as one of her favorite forms of distraction that she doesn't really mind.

"What brings you here, Ladybug?" It's softer now, and Ladybug can breathe, even though she's Marinette right now, even though both sides of her, mask or not, are equally who she is.

"I wanted to tell him who I am." The 'him' needs no other explanation, really; Master Fu knows who she means. "I just wanted him to know, not from logic or help, just to know me a bit better." She sighs, and it leaves like a gust of well forgotten air. Just to breathe, to feel the steady heat of the teacup, and to quietly wonder what needs no words to be wondered about, just images and memories and feelings as she adjusts and deals with them.

"And why didn't you?" He doesn't tell her what to do, and she revels in that unspoken realization.

"I couldn't risk the fall out. Everything has a fall out, and to deal with my identity is a burden that he doesn't have to carry right now." Marinette shrugs, feeling the weight and the pain and the almost regret roll down her shoulders like waterfalls. She spills some tea on her fingers, and it's hotter than the cup, but she only tries to flick it down and out and away, just to clear her mind and focus on something other than heat that is completely heat.

"Do you not trust him with it?" Master Fu is so soft and gentle and insistent that his voice often feels like her conscious.

"No, I trust him." It's the solid truth, raw and real and just there.

"Okay." He answers softly, "It's good that he doesn't know yet."  
"I know." Marinette answers, feeling all the more like Ladybug and not at all like Marinette. "I guess, it's like keeping my best friend in the dark. He just knows me and he doesn't. There's no place that feels perfectly right for him to fill." It's hard to think about, but this sort of secrecy, not secrecy, places Cat Noir in a strange place, both as her best friend that knows her and as a stranger. She doesn't really like the mix.

"It will be worth it after Hawkmoth's defeated, and we have the Butterfly Miraculous back." She trusts Master Fu to tell her point blank the truth without censoring it for her sake, and that's what she hears in his voice. There's so much that he won't tell her, because she's so young or she's not ready for it; Marinette knows that and hates it too.

Her tea cools in her hands, and she ends up regretting bringing it up to her lips. It's still much too hot, but the scalding heat draws her mind elsewhere like a gentle flick in the opposite direction.

"It's easier to keep it from my other best friend now, though Rena makes it difficult. I don't like the added weight of carrying other identities with my own." It doesn't matter that Queen Bee is known by all of Paris for who she is, but Ladybug feels the weight of her identity, of Rena's, of Carapace's, and sometimes they press down on her like added weights, flattening her to the page like a dried flower.

"I know." He doesn't say anything else, but his tea must have finally cooled down enough to drink as she witnesses him take a sip, and no grimace on his face. Ladybug wants that too, even though she's wary as she lifts that cup up to her lips for a second time, but the heat is more endurable now.

She doesn't know what else to say, because Ladybug and Marinette have blended together once more, like they always have, like Master Fu brings out in her when she doesn't even pause enough to notice it. Ladybug doesn't care that she's technically Marinette right now, that her Kwami is playing with Master Fu's Kwami, because she is Ladybug regardless of the suit.

"Does it ever get easier?" Finally comes to her though she almost regrets the sudden question.

"In a way, but never really." Master Fu shrugs, and somehow tea time is nearly over, so she takes another sip. It tastes almost bitter, but within the bitterness lies a kind of hope that she clings to. Ladybugs don't like the bitter cold, but the heat and the warmth often sustains them while the cold of winter leaves their wings, frozen useless.

She's grateful that her suffering unlike a regular ladybug's actually means something as she counts her sips and considers them blessings. Maybe one day, her Spring will come back again, much fuller and full of more life than even the one before held. Being Ladybug changed her, but it never stopped her from being Marinette too.

As tea cools on tongues and cups feel very warm in hands, eventually, they both know, that they'll need to clean off the table, clean up the kitchen, and bid each other goodbyes that feel more like a promise to see each other again soon as if he were her uncle that she visited or her grandfather or even her dad. She always found a level of comfort in their honesty that felt different somehow than Tikki's.

Marinette knew that somewhere along the way that Ladybug was Marinette and Marinette was Ladybug, even when the days made that harder to realize and even when many others only knew one of her names to call her. Master Fu's house was a safe haven, a home away from home, that she'll always remember to return to when identities twist and tear, and she needs a good ear and gentle words that always tell her the truth as much as she can hear of it just yet.


	4. Affection

Affection was a weird word as she ran her hand down the back of a soft cat, as she heard the accompanying purr of just how happy this cat was. With the cat, it was mutual. It rubbed back against her hand, curled around her legs, and somehow within the softness and the action, affection was found, spilled out on the pages.

Marinette bit back a giggle as the cat wound and wound and wound around her, brushing close again and again, just wanting to be affectionate too, to let her know that he cared. She smiled as she wove her fingers through his dark fur, and as she stayed close just to feel that sudden bit of warmth around her legs again and again as the cat purred, and Marinette was almost positive that he was smiling. Such a cute kitty.

* * *

Affection came in different forms as Marinette paused to let her dad ruffle her hair, even though it messed it up. It was a sign that her dad loved her, and she knew not to leave as she didn't really want to leave the candle burning of her father's love.

"I love you, Papa." She told him with a brilliant smile, just happy to be close and to know that he loved her, though some days, love would be interpreted from a glance or a look or just the quiet of baking together or a sometimes poorly time pun, though the men in her life liked puns, she'd never admit to that pool of warmth in her chest when she heard a pun and found the love somehow hidden within the words.

"I love you too." He hugged her and let go, and Marinette knew that she'd be smiling all day, even as she fixed the wayward strands of her hair, even as she dealt with the wild nature that some days took as if on a mind of their own. Marinette loved her papa, and every moment like this just fueled that love ever stronger.

* * *

Affection came on sleepless nights as she tried to follow the recipe with a half exhausted mind, as her mother guided her, both bone tired, but Sabine never minded the late night baking sessions that sometimes dispersed in laughter.

There was something about these only semi-quiet nights turned mornings that they worked side by side, trying to not wake up Tom, that Marinette particularly loved. There was something about the kind of affection that isn't always expressed in the ways that you'd expect. It didn't mean that their half droopy cookies from sleep deprivation weren't a sign of love in their own way, or that the night didn't end with Sabine half carrying her daughter up the steps to tuck her into bed.

"I love you, honey." It's punctuated by a warm hug as Sabine curls the blanket around her daughter.

"I love you too, Maman." Marinette fails to bite back the yawn as it slips out past her wide smile and tired, droopy eyes as droopy as the cookies, but just as filled with love and tiredness. It was a kind of content affection that Marinette needed when the weeks dragged on and blurred together.

Sabine kisses Marinette's forehead, leaving another "I love you," there for good measure, and Marinette giggles as her mind fades away to fuzzy dreams, warmed by love and affection and the nice and warm blanket wrapped around her.

* * *

Affection comes in rubbing against her head when Tikki's overcome with love. Just the thought that her kwami loved her often left a familial warmth in her chest as she snuggled the best she could with Tikki.

How could Marinette be so lucky, so blessed, to have a Kwami, a friend like her?

* * *

Affection is sometimes a gift as Rose never forgets to get something together for Marinette too. Today's its juice, tomorrow it might be the brownies that Rose and her mom make some nights.

Marinette doesn't bother asking about whether those are sleepless night brownies when Rose does bring them in sometimes. She smiles at her dear friend, just the thought that Rose cared about her enough to gift her with her affection so easily.

* * *

This is easy. Ladybug curls up around the warmth of her cat themed partner, who made the cold night somehow feel like a sauna. How could he be so warm and so generous with it? Sometimes, she wanted to ask if that was just a sign of him being a cat, but she remembers Alya's eyeroll one day. "Boys are always so warm. It's not fair." It didn't matter that Alya had just been cuddling with Nino the night before as she played some game that Nino loved.

Ladybug smiled at the soft memory as she melted into Cat Noir's affection. There was something so warm and so sweet about this that she never wanted to pull away to feel the cold of the night again even to go home. She bit back a tired yawn, and peeked up at him. Could she just sleep like this curled around her Kitty, her beloved partner?

This steady affection was as easy and as mutual as it had been with the cat just the other day. It was easy and loving and warm and so, so close. Ladybug closed her eyes as she rested against her partner in fighting crime's shoulder.


	5. Garden

There was something about stepping outside and being surrounded by flowers, by the fragrant and peaceful aroma that a garden enables, something about nurture that it takes to care for the plants from 'infancy' to 'adulthood' and beyond. There was something about just being among them that eased her mind and gave her a quiet sanctuary to spend among nature.

It wasn't much, because her garden was on her balcony, and she didn't have endless room for plants, but it was enough to have a small, little sanctuary. Marinette smiled as she gently pruned a plant, trying to care for it, knowing that sometimes that was needed. She sighed as she sat down in her little haven, watching her plants sway in the gentle breeze and just enjoying the moment.

Marinette was at home among her plants, though it could be debated about whether that was due to being Ladybug or not, though she'd always had a love for plants and nature and creation. She could spend countless hours nurturing something into or through life. It was a lot like fashion design actually; the seeds were planted, and those seeds grew into something completely new, as if life just burst them into something brand new and somehow better than the starting pieces. It was definitely just like fashion design as a pencil on a page, pieces of fabric, and a design somehow came together with new life.

Her smile was soft as she looked up at the vibrant scenery around her, the life held within a simple leaf was so much more than you'd ever imagine. The greenery was so vibrant with a life all its own, a life that like a mother, she'd nourished from back when it was too small to survive by itself. She'd taken to caring for them like little 'ladybugs.'

Her garden was more than a project, more than a simple assortment of plants and flowers, more than a place to just breathe fresh air and taste a hint of sweetness. Her garden was a home of her own creation, her own nurturing, and with that, it became a place to escape to. It was a place to quietly sing among the flowers, knowing that their listening 'ears' were never judgemental, just heartfelt. It became a place to just sit and be quiet, knowing that the plants won't disturb her or demand something of great expectation of her. It was a place unmarred by an Akuma as of yet. No Akuma had decided that her flower garden filled with vibrant flowers and gentle succulents shouldn't exist.

She'd yet never met an Akuma who held deep seeded hatred for plants, that hated the nourishment and care that the plant parent put into the garden, yet to meet an Akuma that somehow detested trees and forests and plants and flowers and the sweet aroma of Spring that sometimes filled the air. Marinette could not quite imagine an Akuma like that, but she loved the quiet moments, safe from disastrious destruction, safe from the harshness of disdain.

Among her flowers, she was Marinette, but she was also Ladybug, and yet, she was neither. Her flowers didn't need saving by a magical yoyo nor did they need her to be some kind of hero, but they also didn't ask for more than she ever felt like she could provide. They didn't ask questions that she couldn't answer or force her to come up with shaky lies to hold identities or feelings in place. They just wanted her close, just wanted her to be present with love.

Patrol never began among flowers, just began among tall buildings that sometimes seemed lifeless, began across metal and shingles and cement, began with manmade creations and sometimes tired city life. She loved Paris, but sometimes she needed her escape from it, an escape back to nature, to something that can be nurtured and raised by human hands, but not created by them. She needed the lesser demans and the ease of comfort, of being present. She needed the quiet and the slowing down and the relaxation.

As Ladybug, everything was high speed from Akuma battles to patrol to the time left before transforming back. Everything had a time and a speed that was required by it, and school was much the same way, projects could sometimes even have a deadline. Some days, deadlines were just imagined, other days, they couldn't be ignored.

Marinette didn't have deadlines with her flowers other than showing up everyday at some point to water them, and she preferred the same time every day, but Akumas and assignments and whatever else came her way often made that difficult. Her plants were quiet and gentle and loving without being demanding, and so to just get a moment with them, away from the hussle and the bussle, away from the drama, away from the noise-other than the noise that peeked up from the city streets down below, and away from the demands, left a kind of relief within her that she couldn't ignore or hate.

To be calm, to be free of those painful worries or even the insecurities that demands often brought on, left her happy and joyful. To be with the flowers in her garden could be spent anyway, somethings singing, sometimes just quiet and with them, sometimes with her notebook and a design in mind to occupy her thoughts; there was no strict formula to being in her garden beyond watering and caring for her plants.

Slowly, over time, her garden had started to be filled up with plant after plant, nurtured and cared for, and she knew it might have been a bit bigger than she'd originally intended for it to get to, but she craved the peace of quiet more, since she became Ladybug, had learned just how precious a few stolen moments are among nature and away from everything else that called for your attention right now.

Marinette had grown to love her garden so much as it flourished and grew and expanded, that she realized that when she was older and moved out of her childhood home, that she wanted a garden then too, an escape away from the hustle and the bustle, a quiet sanctuary. Maybe one day, it will be a shared sanctuary too.


	6. Creation

Creation is not always easy as it is often overlaid with the difficult, the uneasy, the heartbreaking, and the impossible. Ladybug is just an element of creation, and not all of the power falls in her hands. She can't change everything, never could, not when the winter chill freezes her bones inside of her, not when she sees a flicker of pain on Cat Noir's face and can't take it away, not when Alya stops recording, phone flipping to face the ground.

Sometimes Ladybug thinks she's nothing without Cat Noir, without the power of destruction, because sometimes all that you can create is a distraction as you can never destroy the cause of pain. Ladybug wishes that she had the power of Alya's illusion, as if she could have a paintbrush and create a new reality. Some things are impossible for people to try to create, somethings have no say or sway when from a human hand, but Ladybug almost wished that she had the power to wipe minds or to alter reality.

If only... If only, what? That she could make Hawkmoth someone random or strange. If only, she could alter the way he looked, so that no one could recognize him...? If only, she could wipe that pain of Cat Noir's face, a pain that burnt her heart and gut from the shock of it. He looked dejected, heartbroken, absolutely devastated, as if his bad luck mixed with his destruction aimed solely on his heart. Ladybug didn't understand that pain, had probably never felt anything even close to it, but her heart broke for him.

If only Hawkmoth was a stranger, and not this man that somehow sparked pain in her partner. If only, she had the power of destruction instead of creation. She'd construct a new reality where either Hawkmoth didn't exist or one where he wasn't Gabriel Agreste, and yet the pain of losing her partner through there being no Hawkmoth is an intense throbbing in her chest.

How do you love without the burn of something? Of almost realities, of unspoken regret, of pain, of heartache...? Love is not always romantic or ever just romantic, as Marinette loved Alya, her best civilian friend that reminded her that a simpler, less crazy life was sometimes possible. She loved Cat Noir in the way that he always seemed to know what to say when she was hurting and that he always was there with warm affection and a listening ear, that he always supported and cared for her, and that despite the many flaws that she found within herself when she paused to consider them, he'd never left her side. His many flaws became just age old drips in memory through just how much he had steadily cared for her.

Ladybug's power of creation does not fix up secret identities, can't create new realities, or conjure up supervillains to fight or provide illusions for safety. It never worked that way, and yet when pain flares up, she wishes it would.

* * *

Before all of this pain was a rapid fire kind of love for creation, for the ability to 'create' a Lucky Charm to figure out how to make it work, to say "Miraculous Ladybug," and watch the Miraculous Cure heal all of the hurt and pain of Akuma battles. It was unusual to be Ladybug, to really pause and think about all the powers gifted to her suit, to her fighting crime identity.

As Marinette, creation wasn't a distant feeling either. She was used to and still loved watching a design come to life on paper, to pressing that pencil gently down on the page and watching all of the picture come together and bring life to what's already imagined in her head.

Creation could even be found in her garden, and though she was incapable of making seeds appear from nowhere or birthing seeds, there was something almost like creation to nurturing and caring for them as they grew. There was something altogether precious about nurturing real life, about caring for something beyond yourself, and knowing that with your love it grew, and without, it would struggle.  
There was something about creation that she couldn't take credit for, as being away from the city and scaling a mountain did not make her the creator of the mountain. It was too vast, too tall, too magnificient, for Marinette to create it, herself. She was just one human, and though her smile would feel like it would and could last for centuries as she admired all of creation that she could see, it never did prepare her for the pain and the almost torture of Hawkmoth's defeat.

* * *

Ladybug loved her power until finally it met its match. She wasn't less of a superhero for not being able to change Hawkmoth's civilian identity, and she wasn't less of Ladybug with the power of creation and good luck. She was just failing at something that she was never meant to succeed at to keep her partner from 'unneccessary' pain. Cat Noir did not deserve to feel that searing, red hot pain in his chest.

She'd go down fighting and dying for her partner, even when knows better. Cat Noir had sacrificed so much for her over the years, and she'd gladly sacrifice just as much if not more for him. She doesn't know that he already feels that she's sacrificed and done more for him than he could ever do for her. What can Ladybug do when the power of creation does not give her the power to erase Hawkmoth's identity from their minds and their hearts?

Shattered dreams have nothing on the pain that her partner is enduring, the pain that Ladybug can only try to help alleviate. She's flung herself down as if she has the power of destruction instead of creation, down to fight Gabriel Agreste, to beat him up if she could. the power to fade red to black, to seeing nothing anymore. Creation does not have an eraser or a mute button or a 'let's just cover that up, please,' button. Ladybug's at a loss of any other way to deal with this. At all.

Cat Noir's by her side stopping her yoyo holding hand from damaging, from hurting someone that she'd likely regret injuring. "M'Lady, you can't."  
She doesn't answer, "Why not?" It's too much of a loaded question with an answer that she's already guessed at. It's different to hurt Gabriel Agreste than it was to hurt Hawkmoth. Gabriel Agreste for all of the quiet pain that he'd caused in his son was not one that she'd feel glad to hurt even if it might run the risk of relieving some of that ache and pain in her heart that mirrored her partner's at a still weaker scale.

"I'm sorry," slips out instead, though she half wonders if Gabriel hears sarcasm or an insult in that phrase that is never meant for him. It's sincere, and it's for Cat Noir, an apology for what she could have done, what she was about to do. Ladybug was gifted with creation and good luck for a reason, and that is to not destroy things or harm others like this. There's no hand raised against her from their enemy regardless.

"Ladybug, I've got this." It's a testament to their partnership, their deep rooted friendship, that she doesn't stop him or overrule his decision or question it to begin with. She just quietly watches him do what she couldn't do filled with a fury intensified by the desire to protect her partner.

His hands clamp down on Gabriel Agreste's wrists to hold him steady, but he doesn't hurt him, just quietly lets him know that he will be arrested and dealt with. Cat Noir doesn't destroy, but he doesn't create either. He just lives, broken, still beating heart and steady actions aside. There is a reason that Ladybug trusts the one with the power to destroy with her life.

She presses close when she can move and lays a gentle reassuring hand on Cat Noir's arm; it might not be alright later, but she'll be here, trying to create a better, new reality for the two of them once the pain and the rush of adrenaline and long, exhausting court battles that aren't really needed pass away. Ladybug does not just leave those she loves even when it seems easier, even when creation is not cooperating with the beautiful bliss of reality's often assumed ideas of it.


	7. Side Effects

Marinette could assure you that she hadn't always been so late to class or anywhere else. Just, sometimes she would be up a good chunk of the night working on a design and become almost zombie-like the next day, but it happened once or twice a week at most back then. Now, though she was running later more often than not. Being Ladybug meant tired, exhausted nights, just back from a patrol or tired nights where an Akuma kept her on her toes when she should have been sleeping.

Being Ladybug meant trying to figure out just how to find time for sleep, time for patrols, time for fashion design, and time for school with various homework assignments and whatever else sprung up on her. She still had to help out in the bakery; things still didn't run smoothly if she tried to get out of that for some fun event that often felt overdue.

The worst side effects of being Ladybug had to be the sleepless nights, the falling asleep mid-design or mid-project or mid-assignment more than a few times during a week. As the week eased into Friday, she always without fail found herself passing out when homework needed down or passing out with a sewing needle in hand or doing something. It wasn't unusual to find herself laying down in bed working on a project and too worn out to move and therefore falling asleep all over again. She didn't mean to have her grades slip from partially done or late assignments or tardy after tardy.

Being Ladybug while your parents don't know means groundation when the grades slip and when the tardies add up. Marinette hated those side effects, hated the sleepless nights, and the forgetting random assignments or tasks, because she's literally too tired to remember. But, there were a few things that she loved that came from being Ladybug.

She loved watching her garden grow from a few flowers to now succulents and various other flowers. She loved stepping away to immerse herself in time with flowers, to smell the fresh air and catch a break from the stress of life.

Marinette didn't mind so much always smelling like chocolate chip cookies; most wrote it off as a side effect from her living and working in a bakery. It was a sweet smell that rarely made her cave and want a cookie too. The rapid amount of cookies that Tikki sometimes required on exhausting weeks was easy enough to deal with, and Marinette knew the recipe for them for when they couldn't grab the extras from the bakery for her petite friend.

Marinette loved the taste for adrenaline that she felt sometimes running across the Parisian rooftops as she couldn't resist rushing off to just experience the Paris air hitting her as she ran, experiencing the kind of freedom from the stress and sleeplessness of her day to day life. She didn't really complain to anyone about the balancing act that she had to do as she really couldn't explain to a single person why it was harder this year than previous years, and she definitely didn't feel tired as Ladybug.

"If Ladybug was tired all the time, Paris would be worse off." Tikki had explained once, and Marinette was really grateful for those moments. Even if sometimes as she stared at her homework or fashion designs that she felt like transforming into Ladybug and enduring a sleepless night to just get it all done. Sometimes she did just that, but she always hated the worry of, 'Oh no, what if Maman and Papa come into my room just now?,' and the absolute exhaustion of the next day and her increased tendency to run into random objects or ramble without stopping, which Alya seemed to always know was from sleeplessness.

Half the time if not more caffeine didn't even keep her up if she tried, though she figured her brain was just too exhausted to compute when she threw caffeine into it desperately. Being a superhero was not always easy, and anyone who said it was was lying to you.

* * *

She hated the jumbled excuses and lies that had to tumble out of her mouth. Marinette had never been a liar, had always hated lies, and yet when an Akuma attack happened, she'd usually have to tell another half-hearted lie and wonder if that will ever change, or when Cat Noir wanted to know who Ladybug was, and she had to desperately come up with ways of not just spilling her secret identity out on the floor just then.

Marinette wanted to have someone to understand the truth and to talk to about it, but at the same time, it got easier in time to ignore those feelings and want one less and less. Even though Alya would understand, and even though her parents knowing would keep some of the stress out of her life, or Cat Noir providing a listening ear and advice from his own experiences.

She hated lies and detested liars, but she couldn't really call herself the most honest person ever. Worst of all, a lack of sleep and forced lies and a way too busy schedule meant terrible self-esteem sometimes. It meant sometimes being really down on herself, and yet Tikki was always there to lift her up and remind her of the good things about herself, even if she really didn't want to listen to them.

Marinette had tried to find her comfort in Tikki's companionship as she would listen to her and give her advice, but on those tired moments when her mind wandered to who she wished could know her secret identity, she realized that a Kwami and a human were quite different. Alya would bear her secret like a hidden cross, and Cat Noir would know just the things to cheer her up. Her parents wouldn't ground her for tardies and bad grades and may help her balance her schedule out.

But, she'd still be throwing the weight of the world on someone else's shoulders, and her parents would really worry about her during Akuma battles, more than ever before, and Cat Noir might ask her out, and she really didn't have time for a boyfriend. Alya would have to lie and hide secrets on her LadyBlog, therefore affecting her journalism career, and Marinette would be all to blame. There are good reasons identities aren't just thrown out into the open, bearing witness to all of the thoughts and feelings of the people who have to hold these identities close and tell no one them.

The worst side effect that kept her up at night wasn't the exhaustion that put her out like a baby when she still had work to do, but it was the lies and the nightmares. She had frequent nightmares that she never knew how to keep at bay, as she'd picture Cat Noir dying at the hands of an Akuma, Cat Noir killing her with Cataclysm even though he never would even think to do so without being Akumatized, watching Paris crumble to its knees from the worst possible Akuma attacks and so many lives lost that she couldn't save, Alya being exposed as Rena Rouge, Alya dying while fighting an Akuma, Nino dying, and yes, even Chloe's death would haunt her in dreams. She would dream that she was revealed to all of Paris, and that they hated her and wanted her dead, that she failed as Ladybug, that Cat Noir would somehow reject her, not even wanting to fight Akumas with her or to be her partner once he knows her identity.

Sometimes being Ladybug was infinitely more difficult than just being another ordinary girl. WIth Ladybug came nightmares and anxieties and lies and sleeplessness and hectic schedules. She has absolutely no idea how Cat Noir handles all that and manages to always look as if he doesn't bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. She regrets sometimes that she'll never know how he handles it or that she'll never know the boy that she calls her best friend, her partner.

Ladybug is exhausted, but she does have a friend in Tikki, and Hawkmoth can't terrorize Paris forever. Maybe one day, Adrien will go out with her, and Alya won't be burdened with Ladybug's secret if an identity reveal were to happen. Maybe classes won't be so difficult to manage, and she'll be able to breathe easy. She has to stay optimistic sometimes when it hurts far too much, and when she wonders how she'll continue to fight Akumas for another year or two more. Marinette has a lot of side effects from being Ladybug, but her favorites are the sweet tooth that sometimes draws her attention, the excitement of 'flying' over Paris, the friendships that she's formed with Tikki and Cat Noir, her garden, and the sheer joy of being able to help others out and save lives so often.

Being Ladybug is not an easy task, but it's not all bad. She finds joy in the little things, and builds endurance for the not so little things, and maybe one day it will be like night and day, an easy transformation. She has hope, even when it isn't always easy to hope.


	8. Partners

Partners was a bit of a silly word as it had so many different uses. Marinette had been Adrien's gaming partner more than a few times by now; she was usually Alya's partner in school projects where they did the assignments and still found time to discuss the respective boys in their lives in whispers, amid talk of other things, like Ladybug and the merits of superhero life that they both skirted around any 'obvious' truths from their own experience. They discussed journalism and fashion and just what they'll do someday, merged in between casual talk of which elements bonded together or what formula solved this or that equation or whether the current story that they were reading followed the Hero's Journey to a T or if it might go outside of that much.

Partners included of course partners in fighting crime, which meant Cat Noir and Rena Rouge, Carapace and Queen Bee, and thus Ladybug could say that she had four partners, if you only counted superhero identities. All of this would be just to avoid the obvious question of what partners really means, and just how it would be used in its respective context. Ladybug could only be a partner to one after all, when she dug deep and thought about. Crime fighting partners, partners in school projects, and partners while playing video games were whole different spectrums of the scale.

She knew what it meant, if you were asked point blank if you had a partner or did not. Ladybug couldn't say that she didn't and be perfectly honest, but she also couldn't say that she had one, officially. To have a partner is not always black and white, night and day, and easy to determine and figure out and live by. The heart can be easily moved when you remove it from logic and beauty and truth. It mattered whether you followed your heart without those three or with them, and Ladybug knew that sometimes old feelings fell hard, that they didn't want to leave, even when you commanded them to.  
Ladybug had a partner, and that meant that Marinette did too. It was as unswervingly clear and as murky as insecurity and confusion often were. When you have a partner not by name or any actual claim to being one, but by a different classification, it can be hard to define or really question whether things could be lived out as different kinds of partners.

She paused to watch the lone light from Parisian streetlights and the Eiffel Tower in the distance, scatter off of black leather and flicker in the night. He'd moved just right to shine again, and sometimes she wondered if he ever knew how quickly he shone like others claimed she did. Ladybug wondered if there were words for the little moments that drew her gaze and left her mind in awe of flickering light.

"M'Lady?" He paused, and she smiled at him, an almost shy Marinette smile, even though he never made her feel shy. He made her feel embarrassed and giddy, angry and scared, sad and wondering, but he never made her shy. Partners don't make each other feel shy or question their movements; they just make the other confident. There's a bond within that word that she wonders sometimes when the night is long, and insomnia bites her, why other words sometimes hide and scatter this bond away.

"Yeah?" She catches up to him, letting herself follow and not lead this time. The best leaders are the ones that know how to follow. It's a lesson learned from days with her parents, and a lesson further taught through being Class President, and realizing that they want her as a leader, partly because, she's been following others so long. She knows what it's like, has compassion and empathy for the follower, so she doesn't question sometimes giving someone else the reigns and taking the back seat, herself.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks her, and it reminds her that it isn't something simple like attraction. She wasn't pulled into a daze by his muscles, though she watched his lithe movements and how the light flickered off his suit tonight. She was thinking about light, and how Cat Noir can bring it into a room or a place without even trying. Stars and streetlamps and even the Eiffel Tower were not needed to make her Kitty shine.

"Light." Stumbles out before she can think of a more clever reply, of something that makes more sense to someone else, "I was thinking of the streetlights and the Eiffel Tower and what light is." She almost blurts out, 'not at a scientific level,' but those words don't leave her lips at all.

"Light?" And somehow as he looks at her now, she feels like he gets it. He understands that maybe she sees a light in him that pulls her to him like a magnet, that he knows that light is not purely something to be described by science, but it's something with a real personality that somehow brings him much more to life before her eyes than she was ever ready for. It's easy to find attraction in a smile or a daydream or a first kiss, but it's not easy to find it in the moments where you just acknowledge how incredible someone is or where you just want to be close by their side and not hurry off. She doesn't think of Cat Noir as fleeting passion, and her memories of him aren't defined by an umbrella in the rain and a laugh that somehow lifted and fluttered her soul. She doesn't consider him in her shyness, but she remembers him within the everyday moments that shouldn't call him to mind, but somehow do.

"Yeah, light." She smiled, something small, just something to be shared among them, like many secrets that have no secrets. Like learning the little things, such as why Cat Noir's eyes light up sometimes and what kinds of shades and tones and hues, they become when they do, like knowing that if she hugs him, his heart will beat steady and loud in her ear and leave something soft within the place where her heart rests. It's easy to reach out for him, to touch him, to hug him, to call him a friend, and she doesn't pause to consider now why that word is both enough and not enough. Her feelings are as complicated as it is easy to be near her first crime fighting partner and the only one that is ever her steady and dependable one.

"Does it shine like you imagined it would?" His voice is soft and delicate, and she wonders dimly if maybe he does know where the light shone, and was respecting her awe with his reverence.

"Yeah, but I always knew it would." And, her voice is back as well as her confident smile. Perhaps this will fade into just another patrol, just another late night with her partner that kept her going when she felt like quitting and wasn't afraid to correct her when she went off the deep end. She was truly grateful for him, and maybe that's why her heart let feelings sneak up and spread and stay just 'warm' in her chest for him. It wasn't passion or a frenzy or fire, but just something loving and gentle, like her parents likely have.

Cat Noir smiles back, and it becomes his regular smirk. The atmosphere lifts to something somewhat normal, but Ladybug doesn't forget the light as she evens her steps with his, as she races across rooftops, letting the speed and the workout steadily bring her heartrate up, and letting the closeness between them keep the two of them going perfectly in sync. Ladybug doesn't doubt where she stands with her partner, though her words don't grow obvious or make any remark for change. Being partners in the way that they always have been, doesn't make her crave change the way that she always thought it might if she fell.

Sometimes she wondered what a kiss would be like to share, if she had had all of those feelings that she had now. Sometimes she wondered if there were moments that they could hold hands, not for the necessity of battle, but just to hold hands, be close, and reassure each other. Sometimes she wondered just how long hugs could last when you really listen to the other one's heartbeat, but she doesn't dare break what has become her favorite kind of normal to find out. Official titles came with distractions and came with secrets that are so difficult to bear and only become worse when two fold. She doesn't mind this. Just being close, running close, moving together, and not needing to reach out to touch the other.

Somewhere it breaks into a race, and though they are partners, for a moment, they pretend to be rivals. Pouring on the speed, watching for difficult buildings to bound across, sometimes showing off as if to discourage the other that only gets emboldened by it, and wondering if the pounding of their hearts means sure victory. They finish in a tie. They often do, and no one complains as hearts race and cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink and as they just look at each other, content to be partners in two ways, though one is unofficial and only felt in the quiet way that you still feel your mother's hand in your hair when you sleep, resting against her legs. It's easy between them, and Ladybug does not worry over her words or fumble them around him, though sometimes she might be tired or just say the wrong thing, but they'll laugh together over it, just as much as they do when Cat Noir does the same thing.

It's as easy as breathing, as easy as being friends, as easy has being partners before her feelings made his mutual. There was no push and strain, and some nights made her wonder about whether this is what it's like to marry your perfect partner, to marry your best friend who keeps you on your toes and laughing in the same instant. It isn't rash or harsh or overly sentimental; it's just the way that they are, with the love that they share. Marinette likes the peace of it, or at least that's what she thinks about the most when they aren't side by side.


	9. Dreams

She wanted three kids, at least, for the siblings that she never had. The little brother, who would have been smaller than her, but he'd fight for her. For the older sister who would have brushed her hair and maybe braided it if it was long enough, who would sure jokes with her, and spend hours just hanging out and being her best friend. But, she was an only child, and she didn't want that for her future children. Marinette loved her parents so much, but sometimes you just really wanted a sibling to model your designs, to laugh with, to just be around.

She wanted pets too. Marinette had never been able to have any due to the health risks within a bakery, from either the amount of fur or anything else a pet did, for it running around and making customers worry over their food, and some pets needed to go outside, and all would want more than the top apartment to live in.

A lot of her dreams involved Adrien, but even she knew that if something shifted in her life, she'd be fine with marrying someone else. She did however want a happy marriage with a husband who loved her, silly moments laughing by themselves, and gentle, sweet kisses from the love that they shared. She wanted someone who wasn't afraid of making her laugh or who didn't mind somehow getting caught up in the little things in life.

She dreamed of a successful career as a fashion designer, a husband who was looking out for her, and would tell her if she was working too much, because she didn't know if she'd always catch herself, and she wanted to play with her kids too. She wanted a love like her parents, gentle and sturdy and sweet and encouraging.

Marinette longed for the kinds of days where something silly kept them glued to it, like extremely long Uno games, awfully close matches at Ultimate Mecha Strike, the morning sun warming a bed that somehow seems too warm and cuddly to ever want to leave it. She wanted the kind of life one day that reminded her that sometimes taking it slow or the little things tended to add up to so much more than the fast pace of life.

Marinette dreamed of the days where she'd be able to squeeze in time for a friendly outing with Alya, for laughter, and hours spent during not much that somehow feels like a whole lot when you look back on it. She dreamed of hanging out with the whole crew: Alya, Adrien, Nino, and maybe even letting Chloe join the group. One day, the majority of them as superheroes might grow into closer friends.

She dreamed of someone who understood that not all exhaustion was explainable, even though she wanted her future husband to know that she is Ladybug. There were so many reasons though that her identity might have to stay a secret, reasons she wasn't too eager to explain or go over.

Marinette sometimes wondered if she dreamed for too much, and if so, she hoped that she didn't and she wanted to just be happy one day, in love, spending time with family and friends, and just happy.

* * *

Sometimes, she didn't think over the future. She was exhausted, and her mind decided to have a little bit of loopy fun with that. It spread over a beautiful landscape that looked like fields, and what would likely have been not far from Paris if she had any hope of ever going there. Within the fields stood several tall trees, one with big white flowers that grew and grew and grew. The others despite their different colored flowers and leaves seemed dull by comparison.

Suddenly, there was rock music to a tune that made her just want to dance, so she did. It was a simple tune on repeat, but she had no idea where it could possibly be coming from, just somewhere nearby. She wondered vaguely if Luka ever played this song. It was a song, wasn't it?

He was there now, and he was playing it, and the flowers rustled in the trees like leaves and added a beautiful extra beat to the music. It was blissful, and when her eyes reopened, squirrels ran by, scampering up the trees, and Luka was fading. It was weird. He'd been here one second, and now the next, he was gone. Marinette's faint humming along to the music came to a dull stop, and then there was a beauitful melody, and it stood by itself.

It was delicate and sweet and romantic, and her heart fluttered. It fluttered like Adrien's hand were around her waist or in her own hand, and she couldn't think beyond just the wild hope of it, the hope that she'd be happy and that he'd be here, and she wouldn't have to be alone again.

Then, he was there, and he was playing piano, beautifully. Marinette would hum along, but she worried that her hums wouldn't fit along with the beautiful notes that Adrien played so effortlessly. She crept closer, trying to bite her tongue, in case she accidentally spoke instead of remaining quiet, and she sat down next to him, feeling a delicate steady warmth in her side that lit her heart up into racing all over again.

Marinette watched his fingers, as if in a trance, watched as they danced across the keys, as they tiptoed through her heart, and she wondered why it always seemed that Adrien held beauty in spades, and that this beauty clung to him in all the little ways that it possibly could. It clung from his bright smile to his sincere laugh that day to the way that he cared for his friends to this moment at the piano. She loved it, whatever it was.

Delicately, she leaned against him, as if emboldened by the piano and its gentle melody, and her head rested on his shoulder, and then she woke up, half falling off her bed, and wishing that she owned a piano. Did Adrien like playing the piano like Luka liked playing guitar? It was a strange thought put like that, and she tried to shake out twin images of the boys that she'd just dreamt about.

Sometimes she woke up and just wondered what all of it meant, but she was almost nervous to share this one with Alya or her parents, and figured that it would remain just a little secret, a dream worth figuring out later. She hoped that Adrien liked playing the piano anyway, as if he didn't, then it would be such a sad, ominous thing, like rewatching a scary movie, and knowing just then that the music is not a happy lovesong or something that the musician plays for fun, but plays for heartache and pain and suffering and misery and worry and anxiety that pools in your tummy.

Marinette hopes, just hopes, that Adrien's happy, and perhaps that's a stranger thought though one she's had often. She wishes him the best and ultimate happiness, even happiness that is contained and hidden within the future. Marinette hates the thought of imagining him unhappy or lonely. In a way, she hates the unhappiness of any of her friends, but she probably wouldn't admit to anyone but Tikki, the special way that it is for Adrien. His unhappiness and misery are perhaps worse to imagine, and it hurts to think of how dull and lonely his house is, for all it has.

Either way, the day's beginning, and she feels cold now. Marinette can't go back to sleep now, and doesn't want to spend the morning thinking back over her dream anymore, so she leaves it between the bedsheets and her blanket, curled up as they are, on the pillow that she once rested her head on, and in a land that she might not return back to tonight. Every dream could very well be different, after all.


	10. Video Games

She'd grown up with video games, with learning to overcome challenges, and to find real joy, humbled joy, at success that she'd worked hard to achieve. It was a way to spend time with her father, a way to blow off stress, and a way to just have fun. It required concentration and effort; victories aren't just won by luck. Some real, hard, raw effort is needed to overcome the little humps and bumps along the way.

There's something special about laughing at something stupid as you play a game with your dad, something unique about just being together like friends. Anything seemed possible if you just turned on a system and dove into a creation from someone else's imagination and let your own effort, hard work, and fun fill up the time, fill up the hours.

"Are you sure that you'll beat me?" Tom asked, as if he didn't usually lose to his daughter at Ultimate Mecha Strike often.

"I don't know." Marinette shrugged, with a happy smile and a gleam in her eye that told any onlooker that she'd try her best to beat her dad, and that the 'I don't know,' is really a challenge accepted.

And somehow with strategic button mashing, and long hours biting back laughter as some serious games turned into playful imitations of serious games. Her dad was rather quick with puns sometimes, and that could turn a good move on Marinette's part into a sloppy one, if it managed to catch her by surprise and make her laugh.  
"So, you won." She pretended to sigh a few games later, even though she felt that giddy bubble rise up in her chest that her dad had won a game. Really, sometimes it was harder to be upset when you lose, when someone you really love won. It always tended to take the sting out of losing.

"You won more games though." Her dad leaned back, and the gentle smile on his face told her that even though it was just a game that he was still proud of her, as if the hours playing really amounted to more than just simply playing a game. It mattered, since they'd played together and since Marinette had shown how quick she can think and how determined she could be.

"But, you're still the star player, Papa." She smiled; truly, no matter how many games she won, her dad was her pick for MVP, and was her superhero. That wouldn't change. From Akuma fight to video games, her dad was the voice behind every victory, and so, too, was her mom. She'd be the first to admit that, as every lesson that they taught her, made her a stronger player and a better person.

"Really, you are, Marinette." Tom smiled a wide smile that revealed how deeply he felt that, and Marinette suddenly couldn't see past the tears in her eyes or feel past the fuzzy butterflies in her belly. She didn't deserve that much, but someone within her opened like little petals on a flower.

"Thank you so much, Papa." It came out like a worn breath as she reached out to hug him, just to be close, and thank him in a way that words never really conveyed. Truly, she'd tell you that hugs could tell feelings and emotions better than words could at time, as so much is held within the arms of a hug, so much more than initially meets the eye.

* * *

There was something about the static of unspoken words in the air, the fidgety frustration of a lack of voice, the struggle to find words to speak, when words should come naturally. Belatedly, it's probably what video game streamers feel at times, having to entertain an invisible audience, be true to themselves, and voice thoughts that could easily just be mere rambles built up by nerves or the desire to speak when words can't seem to come.

She feels like that, as she digs through for words, makes a bad play, and watches as Adrien finally gets a move in. Marinette sighed, shaking her head. She had to focus. Why couldn't words come easily like they could with her dad? It's always this way, seemingly, when Adrien is beside her playing, trying to stamp over her character and claim a victory. He's a good player, and a bit of a challenge if only she could focus and let it become one.

"So..." He finally speaks, but the word is so inconsistently nervous that she regrets not putting him at ease, "What's..." His mind likely blanks as if there isn't much to ask about a game like this. What can you say of favorite characters when you partially invent your own? What can you say that isn't a direct question about the weather outside that both of you can't feel?  
"So...?" Marinette tries for words, taking this opportunity for what it's worth, "How long have you been playing?" It's a question. Success.

"Since I was little, and Mom first bought me the game. I wanted to play it." Adrien's face turned a light pink as if embarrassed. That wouldn't do.

"I've been playing for a while too. Papa plays with me, usually. He got it when I was young, and we've been playing ever since." Whoops. She wasn't technically old, now. He'd think nothing of it, right? It just sort of slipped out.

"Oh. I wish that Mom or Father would play with me." The slight downward curve of Adrien's lips had her in a frenzy: how to make him happy...?

"You can come over whenever, and play with Papa and me." Was that the right thing to say? She couldn't bring his mom back or force Gabriel Agreste to play with his son. She couldn't really picture the fashion icon pausing to play Ultimate Mecha Strike with his son. The thought kind of made her sad for Adrien too. She'd have taken the time away from fashion to play with him, anyway.

"Thank you. I'll ask Nathalie." It seemed easier to ask her than to ask his father, though Nathalie then would have to ask Gabriel Agreste.

"It's no problem." Marinette sighed and leaned against her friend's side, "I wish I could do more." It was easier to be honest with him over this than she'd expected. There were so many parts of Adrien's life that she wished she could make better.

"You do a lot." Adrien twisted around to face her better, "This is a lot." Even though the screen flashed that she'd defeated him. It didn't seem like a lot, but then again, it never had with her papa either.

"How?" And any other words escaped them both as they tried to somehow speak without words, staring into green eyes, staring into blue eyes. Marinette's question went unanswered beyond the strong force of insistent emerald eyes that tried to tell her what words couldn't say. It reminded her of hugging her papa, and yet her arms stayed at her side. She wasn't sure if a hug would be accepted right now, or if it had the words for what Marinette wasn't quite sure that she could say.


	11. Guardian

Guardian was a hard word to define, because within its chasms, it needed care, it needed emotion. It was a word that lost meaning if not built up with care, and then could be sneered at as a make believe. Marinette paused to really ponder it; permission slips and forms for field trips came as if stapled on with a spot for guardians to sign. Parental guardians? Other guardians? It really wasn't something that she tended to pause and consider on a normal day, but somewhere within exhaustion and worry and the everyday stresses of being a superhero, it really made her pause and consider just what that one word really meant.

Marinette wasn't even sure that she could be classified as a guardian. She had no kids to take care of, no wayward teen heroes to make sure that they know to be careful, no pet to curl up in bed by her chest and long to be warm. She couldn't claim Tikki as a pet as she was too much of a motherly figure, too much of someone who seemed to almost be her guardian in a way. Marinette doubted that without training that she'd ever be considered to be a guardian for even a single Miraculous. She was grateful in a way that she wasn't.

Marinette wondered if in a way, if she ever needed him to, if Master Fu would count enough as a guardian for her. He wasn't related by blood; he had no kids that she knew of, and yet as the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous, in a way, he'd stepped up to be a guardian for her. He was like another father to visit, concerned for her well being, looking out for her, and yet she felt far too young to be his daughter sometimes. He had so much riding on being alert and sure of what he had to do, so much carefully considering and heartfelt time, that it was easy for her to wonder how he managed to do it so well.

He's Tikki's guardian in a way, even as Marinette wears her Miraculous faithfully, even as she works hard to balance the superhero life with that of a civilian, even as she feeds Tikki and even as she and Tikki share a room. Master Fu still feels like the guardian of Tikki for her, and in a way, whenever she needed his words of comfort, assurance, or advice, she went to him like a daughter seeking advice from her father or a granddaughter seeking advice from her grandfather. He had to be a guardian for her, whether school would accept that or not.

Does a guardian have to live in your house? Marinette doubts that one does, doubts it as she considers everything, even though Master Fu is a Grand Guardian to the Miraculous at his place, even as he looks for the Butterfly Miraculous and even as he looks for the Peacock Miraculous. Marinette knew that the responsibility for them often fell on Master Fu. She has to return the Fox Miraculous, the Bee Miraculous, and the Turtle Miraculous back to him after an Akuma that she and Cat Noir needed extra help on was taken care of.

* * *

Marinette stops for a moment as her mother checks to see if she's hurt. They'd been out buying things for the bakery and fabric, and Marinette had run off at the first sight of an Akuma. "Are you hurt?"

She blinks as she looks up at her mother as if truly seeing her for the first time. Marinette forgets sometimes that that is the first question that would come to mind. "No, I'm fine. I ran and hid." It was a small lie, but it felt like a big one as she looked into her mother's eyes, eyes that didn't believe a word that she'd just said past the 'I'm fine.'

"Don't lie to me." Sabine's voice is stern and steady, and Marinette almost tells her the outright truth. You can't fully act as someone's guardian without the full truth out in the open. Marinette bites her lip as she runs through a myriad of other excuses, none of them true, all of them lies.

"Maman." Marinette gulps past the title, tries to find a way to feel something other than remorse and guilt as she considers what other lie that she could tell, what one would be more believable. A parent can smell a lie right off, where others might not see one.

"Marinette, don't run off during an Akuma." When her mom doesn't demand the truth from her, a rock forms in Marinette's chest, weighting down her heart: guilt clung. She could feel her mother's disappointment, and she felt as if she'd done a million things wrong; she didn't do drugs, drank alcohol, or run off to some boyfriend to do things that her parents would diasprove of, but it sure felt like she had.

"Okay." It's not a promise, and she feels immense guilt at the fact that she can't even promise that much. What's a promise, if fueled by a lie anyway? She'd been taught that a promise is forever; if you promise something, you keep it even when it's hard to.

"Marinette." And that diasppointed hum breaks her heart. She hates lying to her mother, and she considers that when someone has a guardian that truly the feeling tends to go both ways. You don't want to hurt the one or ones that take care of you. They love you enough to spend their time looking out for you, and to not love them back just as much would be a bitter pang in the chest that never goes away.

"I'm sorry, Maman." And, she is. She's sorry for all the times that she's had to lie to her, sorry for all of dishonest excuses, sorry for this whole situation. Her shoulders droop as if to catch the tears of feelings, the ones that don't get an easy release in water form, that just clump up and hurt her heart.

"Marinette." And something in her mother shifts, and she's in her arms and trying to hold on, as if this will be their last hug. Marinette was as honest as she could be, and it hurt her so much that she had to hold fast to that vow of telling no one. Ladybug hates not telling her mom, so that her mom wouldn't have to be lied to, so that her mom as a guardian of hers would know where she is and who to look out for. Marinette hates telling lies to her parents; it feels a lot like killing something inside of her, and a lot like throwing herself under a bus to tarnish her whole life. She just wants to be honest as she curls up into her mother's arms, finally feeling tears leak from her eyes, as if ready to release the pent up pain.

* * *

She wonders sometimes if all of the lies and excuses makes her father doubt her as he checks her fever for the millionth time, tucking her once again into her blankets as if she'd wiggled out of them. "Marinette, why?"

Marinette vaguely worries over whether he thinks that she snuck out with some boy and contracted something or other. She hopes he doesn't think like that, "I haven't slept well lately, and I think I overstressed myself." It's honest, and immune systems if not treated well, won't be very strong.

"If that's it." He doesn't say much else as he adjusts and readjusts her pillow, laying his head over her chest to count the beats even though she doubts that it really would tell her papa anything. He isn't a doctor, and the sickness is not in her heart anyway.

Tom worries over his daughter, and she can see the honest concern. She's not often sick, and so when she'd gotten sick this time, everything felt amplified.

"I'll be okay, Papa." She tries to answer as she snuggles deeper into her blanket and considers the fact that her father will have to get back to work soon, and then her mother might check up on her in another half an hour.

"Are you sure?" The concern somehow breaks her heart, and she hopes that her honesty when she is honest, registers well with her parents. She doesn't lie all the time, and yet sometimes she worries that she's broken something that should have never been broken.

"Yeah, I'm sure." She moves as if to sit up, so that maybe she can slip her arms out of the blanket to give her dad a hug, "Sickness can't keep me down and out." She jokes, and yet somehow that makes his eyes tighten up and crinkle with worry, and she feels like she's just failed at something or other.

"I'll send your maman up in a few minutes." He answers, and she realizes that they have to deliberately take turns to keep the bakery running while she's sick. She wants to tell him not to worry about it, but the words won't take away the worry.

"Okay." She mutters, wishing that she could sink into her blanket and stop worrying her parents. Out of love, concern, and care, they worry over her when she isn't feeling well. It makes it seem as if parents are the best kinds of guardians as they somehow can tell when you're dishonest and as they are the ones to care for you when you're sick and worry over you when you're away. She loves them so much, but her throat aches and feels dry, and she's almost crying now.

Her papa goes to leave, to go back to work as the bakery does need to stay open today, when she finally squeezes the words out, "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, Marinette." He answers, and something in his answer melts a part of her heart that drips down like goo. She's glad that everything considered, she hadn't terribly disappointed him, that he still loved her somehow.

His few minute warning equals fifteen minutes for her mother to go upstairs to check up on her, and their concern and genuine care warms her heart.

* * *

When she visits now, it is no longer rare for her too. She comes, sometimes with tea, but usually without, to just sit and talk. He's the only person than she can talk to about this, all of this, and be perfectly honest though she skirts around telling him her romantic feelings towards guys most of the time. It still just seems far too awkward.

Marinette smiles as she enters the one place without a mask that she'll be called Ladybug. "Hello, Master Fu." And, there's something easy about the fact that he already was heating up a kettle to make tea for the both of them before she arrived.

Sometimes when she feels like considering it, she wonders if she's that predictable or if he can tell the future somehow. She doesn't like to pause and reflect on that too much as it's just a quality that sums up and makes up Master Fu.

"What's the matter, Ladybug?" His words bring her back to focus.

"I just wanted to talk to someone honestly about being Ladybug. I talk to Tikki a lot, but it's not the same as talking to you." Tikki already knew all the stories, and as wonderful and motherly as she was, sometimes Marinette just needed to talk to a human and give Tikki a chance to play with Wayzz.

"It isn't." He answered softly, and Marinette just wasn't sure what she'd tell him today exactly, but it was a slip away from the rest of the world for a moment, a chance to find the interlinking threads between Ladybug and Marinette and be both of them at once, called by the familiar superhero title that she held on to like a priceless gem. It was easy to forget her pain over masking her identity from her friends and family after talking to Master Fu. He was one of the best listeners that she'd ever met, perhaps the best one.

It was part of what made him a guardian for her, a person to care for her in the way that only he was able to, a person to seek advice from, and who would know who to contact if anything ever happened to Ladybug. It was a relief that that burden didn't solely fall on her shoulders if she couldn't reach out and tell who needed to know most what happened.

She trusted him, even though sometimes it felt like it took forever for that trust to form. Marinette sat down, and knew that when the tea was made that she'd share just the pains and the burdens of being a superhero with another person who understands and that will help her get through this. She's grateful that he's one of the three people that she can call, 'guardian.'


	12. Phone Thief

'Phone Thief, well, that sort of applied, but I hadn't stolen that many phones, had I?' Marinette paused to count them up, imagining that maybe it was just once, and not three times or four or five. 'There was that time with Adrien when I couldn't bear for him to hear just what I'd said, especially what I called him.'

It tickled her memory as she considered that day, how she and Alya had discussed whether Marinette should just ask Adrien out over the phone, since she butchered and stuttered over her words in person. She cringed, remembering how she'd snuck into his locker, grabbed his phone and wore gloves while trying to figure out the password and how to work the phone, in eager embarrassment.

She shuddered when she remembered that she'd missed the important ceremony as Ladybug, that she'd had to deal with CopyCat due to that whole incident, and who knows how that all took place without her there to support Theo. She should have been there. Marinette shook her head as if to dispel the memory. The whole fight was like an embarrassment called to mind, and she hated fighting anyone that looked like Cat Noir, because it felt so wrong to fight her partner.

Theo had just been a guy with a crush, like she was a girl with a crush, and she should have been there to soften those blows, to give him a chance to meet her without needing for it to be in the throngs of battle and the aftermath. Marinette frowned.

'Okay, that was one.' She tried to will the memory away as she contemplated over the next occurence, 'I stole Alya's phone, once, because I accidentally deleted her interview with me, well, Ladybug.'

That memory stung, having to lie to her best friend more than normal, trying to record a new video better than the old one and trying not to get caught. That cat that had knocked it into the trashcan might have been trying to tell her something after all; _honesty is much better than a lie to save your skin. _Or so, she'd like to believe looking back at it now.

It reminded her of Cat Noir now that she thought about it; he was always trying to get her to be as honest as she could and to be the best possible version of herself. She really appreciated it though often during the moments like that, she could be hurt or angry or just plain upset with him. She'd felt so grossed out to lean down and pick the phone out of the garbage can later, even though she'd already dealt with The Mime.

When she'd returned the phone, guilty as could be for stealing it, Alya had forgiven her and explained that it was already on the LadyBlog; nothing had truly been lost, thank goodness, but still she'd stolen her phone, and the interview afterward probably didn't make up for the many hours that Alya had not had a phone and could not use it to record the Akuma Battle or call for help if need be. Marinette sighed. 'That's two.'

'Then there was Chloe's phone.' Marinette frowned at the memory, though she'd been trying to do the noble thing for Juleka, stealing a phone ended up not being the right way to approach it, not even stealing a camera's memory card. She sighed as she remembered rushing off to grab that memory card, being caught by Chloe and Sabrina, and ending up in a situation where she was positive that she had to delete a video on a phone, this time on purpose.

It was a mess to think about, that crazy day trying to do what she can for Juleka, and not knowing that they'd have a chance later on to talk with Vincent, explain what happened, and get new photos taken, this time with Juleka in the middle. Marinette would do anything for her friends, but she doesn't doubt that she may have overstepped her boundaries then, instead of just talking more to Vincent and sincerely explaining everything the way that she should have at the beginning. Then maybe, the Akuma Fight might not have happened that same way.

'That's three times now.' She frowned as she thought over it; she hoped so, so much that she would never steal a phone again in her life. No one deserved to have their phone stolen, and maybe Marinette really did count as a phone thief as she thought this over once again, thinking through as a little bit older than that time, though not by much compared with time, but it felt like years when she considered how much being Ladybug made her grow up, often in ways that she never expected.

* * *

What if she never stole a phone? Would Adrien be dating her, ecstatic to call her his girlfriend? She wondered as she thought it over, maybe 'Hot Stuff,' wasn't as embarrassing as it sounded. What if he agreed to go to the movies with her out of friendship at the very least?  
Marinette was late, running so, so late; she hadn't expected it to take so long to get here or for Fencing to end early. That hardly ever happened, and her stomach dropped as she stopped right by the gym and peeked in. Adrien was at his locker, pausing to pick up his phone and hit play on that message of her.

_"It's gone to voicemail."_

_"Leave a message; don't improv!"_

_"Hello, uh, Adrien's voicemail. Uh, this is Marinette, who, uh, has a message for you, of course, 'cause it's, uh, your phone, so, um, call me later, see you 'bye! Mmm... What did you expect me to say? Hey, hot stuff, this is Marinette. I'd ask you on a date to a movie, but I've got such a crazy crush on you that the only way that I can talk to you without foaming at the mouth is over this stupid phone. Pretty ridiculous, right?" _Awkward giggles and stressed out groans not unincluded. Marinette's face lit up like a stoplight as she contemplated just what she could do in this situation; run home and hide under the covers sounded like a pretty good idea by this point.

Adrien's face turned scarlet as he held his phone in his hand, and Marinette just hoped that he wasn't thinking about not being her friend at least anymore as he seemed as still as a statue with his mind a million places at once. Just what was he thinking about? Was it her ultimate demise? Was it the fact that he didn't want to sit near her in class again? Was he wondering how she could have been his friend for so long without him noticing this? Had it really been long enough to wonder over that much? Marinette was absolutely convinced that if a hole opened up under her feet that she'd dive into it with reckless abandon and absolute relief.

A voice came muffled from somewhere in his locker, "I guess she likes you."

Adrien looked so lost and out of it and dazed that Marinette was convinced that he was going to delete her number from his phone that he'd just gotten from that call, and that he'd block it and would never want to see her face ever again!

He paused, looking unsure of himself for perhaps the first time that she'd ever seen him like that, and he hit something on his phone, that she thought was delete until her phone started ringing in her bag. She'd only had it on her out of a force of habit, and now she dove to hide behind a light pole or a car or something as anxiety bit at her stomach, and she picked up out of guilt and the knowledge that this was the only way to get over this.

"Uh, hi?" She gulped past her tongue that felt swollen and far too big in her mouth as she fought off a scared shudder. Just what would he tell her?  
"Hello, uh, Marinette?" His voice sounded just as awkward, and she waited with bated breath for the 'I don't want to be your friend anymore.'

"When did you want to see that movie?" It came as a shock to her ears, and she was positive that she had to have heard him wrong, "I mean," There he goes, "Do you really think that I'm hot stuff? Or... I mean attractive, as in not just as a model, if that makes sense?"

Her heart jumped to her throat, and at first, she couldn't speak, "Well, yeah. You're pretty cute, or attractive. I mean, that I like you for more than your famous, err..., face. I liked you since you gave me your umbrella, and I saw how honest and sincere and sweet that you were. I-I, mean, pretend that I didn't say that." Marinette's face flamed a deeper and darker red than she'd ever remembered having it before.

"You have?" Adrien asked, soft and sincere and kind of nervous too, "I mean, I must be pretty bad at social cues. I mean, can we go to that movie? I'll see if Nathalie and Father will let me go Saturday with you, if that's alright? Are you free on Saturday, err..., are you free at all?" His words jumbled up just as much as hers often were. It was relieving to not be the only awkward duck in this conversation.

"Oh, Saturday works. After three though, I have to help Maman and Papa out in the bakery until three." Marinette's face felt pink; would he be able to go out during the afternoon with her?  
"Oh, okay!" Adrien answered, suddenly back to upbeat and calm, "I'll ask Father about four O'clock. Would that be enough time for you to get ready? I know it takes me a while for photoshoots." He paused, and Marinette waited for more, not knowing just how flamed up his face had gotten again.

"Oh..., yeah. I should be able to get ready by four. it's just a movie, so it shouldn't take as long as photoshoots probably take to get ready for." Marinette had no idea where her sudden confidence came from, but she was just thankful that she had it.

"Oh, okay. Jeans and a nice shirt? I've never been on a date before." Somehow that felt even more real to her, and a part of her adored Adrien even more for it.

"Me either, but that should work. I'll dress nicely too." She answered, not for a minute had she thought that she wouldn't dress up nicely for her first date with Adrien, but she just wasn't entirely sure that this was happening as she felt that it was.

"See you Saturday. I'll ask Father and Nathalie, and if nothing else, I'll be there to pick you up regardless." Adrien answered with a bright smile that naturally she couldn't see through a voice call. Just, the giddy excitement that filled them both up with joy was not the sort to easily fade, and that would mark their first date with many more to come eventually.

Maybe the world was better off without any phone thievery after all.


	13. Akumanette

That fashion designer in his son's class was spending an awful lot of time around his son for his supposed crush on Ladybug, and come to think of it, weren't those earrings that she always wore? She wore the black earrings as if they were essential, and it didn't matter if she had to dress up more than usual; it was as if that was the only pair that she owned, but it couldn't be. She was a fashion designer, and would know that accessories mattered just as much as what she wore on her skin. Gabriel Agreste paused, 'Hmmm... Maybe he'd need to stage an intervention of sorts; a fashion designer like her wasn't worthy of his son after all. He didn't need someone to sleep her way to the top after all.'

* * *

"You asked to see me about my portfolio and application, Mr. Agreste?" She stood before him, perfectly respectable, black earrings and a light colored outfit. Marinette Dupain-Cheng acted as if she hadn't met him before as she spent so much time around his son right now. She would have appeared as if a different woman with her hair that cascaded down to her shoulders, soft and flowing like water, but he knew the pig tailed designer's face just as well as ever, no amount of makeup or dressing up could distinguish the woman, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from his son's friend.

He'd already told Nooroo to take care of Tikki, once he found her. Gabriel Agreste smiled, something cool and cold; really, it could be seen as an ice pick if that _girl _knew where to look.

"That was your portfolio, Madame Dupain-Cheng?" He asked, keeping his voice cool and composed; it wouldn't help to lose his cool, "That looked like a five year old was playing on paper. I wouldn't have ever guessed."  
She looked about ready to speak, blue eyes holding back a waterfall of tears.

"Oh, you are forbidden around my son too. A poor designer like you does not need to sleep her way to the top of my company by using my son. I'm not naive, and I would hope that I raised my son well enough to know when there's a liar in his presence. You do know that you won't fool me, and Adrien will not get another chance to be fooled by you again." Gabriel Agreste let it come out as if a soft growl, keeping the cool edge to it, so that it didn't sound overly angry. "There was a good reason why I didn't want him to go that school, the reason was girls like you, who don't know their place and think it's okay to stomp over my son's heart until you're running the company that he is to inherit." Gabriel Agreste watched as the first tears rolled down her eyes, pushing back the fact that he'd rarely had to get someone ready to be Akumatized by himself, usually they got ready in advance. He just needed Tikki away from her, so that she had no Kwami to turn to, if she was in fact Ladybug.

"I-I'm not." She sniffled past her words, trying to recompose herself as she likely knew that she shouldn't let herself fall apart like this in his presence, especially when Hawkmoth could be running amuk in Paris right now.

"Don't try to play innocent. I am not naive, and my son is not as naive as he looks. Now, run along and play with the dolls that kids like you with no fashion sense try to decorate and make look 'pretty.' They'll always be ugly, because of just who is designing them, young, immature girls that don't know a skirt from a dress. Run along, and if I see you here again, you'll regret it. Especially when, I let all of the companies that you've been applying to know what you tried to do here, and I have picture proof." Gabriel went on, watching as her little heart broke, and he refused to feel that small pinprick of remorse hit his heart. He'd never wanted his son to date a designer anyway, as he should know to be cautious, and besides, if she wasn't likely Ladybug than he wouldn't be so harsh on her. She hadn't done anything vulgar to his son as far as he could tell, but he couldn't chance her being Ladybug without letting an opportunity arise where he could get her Miraculous. She'd just be the one to hand it to him, and just skilled enough at fighting that Cat Noir could not help, but lose his Miraculous, also. Gabriel Agreste just knew that she'd be a beautiful creation, a wonderful pawn at his disposal.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng fought the few tears that had dripped down her eyes so far as she ran from the room, and he was grateful that he'd arranged his schedule just so that his son wouldn't be home right now, and not for a few more hours. Nathalie knew better than to comfort her, and Gorilla was not here either. She'd be running off to be alone, and to let her own willpower crumble.

Nooroo entered the room solemnly a few moments after the girl had left crying, and in his glum paws, was Tikki who looked so defeated and yet so eager to escape, "I can't believe it's you."

"Oh, you won't have long to ponder that, Tikki." His smile was as harsh and cold as that lone ice pick again as he stood up, "Because your Miraculous will be in my possession after today."

* * *

Marinette couldn't breathe; her heart was galloping in her chest. She and Adrien weren't even dating yet! But how could you tell your crush's dad that you aren't dating his son, but you, oh, so want to? It felt like a crumbled butterfly beating in her chest as she collapsed in one of the guest bathrooms. She should be leaving, fleeing the scene like a smashed bug, and yet she couldn't, perhaps because she was smashed.  
She reached for her bag, dazedly grabbing it into her hands; Tikki had always reassured her before, helping her to not crumble, and yet she could barely hold herself together as she whispered, brokenly, into her bag, determined to not get Akumatized or have to deal with this right now, "Tikki?" There was no answer, and she dumped her bag to find Tikki not at all inside of it, though there was a sewing kit, two chocolate chip cookies for emergencies, and her makeup case. It felt useless and worthless. Where was her Kwami? Tikki did go with her earlier, right?

Marinette held her bag loosely in her hands as she finally let herself break, crumbled up and rejected. Maybe Tikki saw what a disgrace she was and left her alone, maybe she wasn't worth even standing as Ladybug. Maybe she should never ever try being Adrien's friend again, let alone date him. Maybe somewhere deep down she was using him. It didn't matter that she hadn't fallen for him right away, that she would never stoop so low. It just mattered that she'd been accused of it, and that she had wanted to date Gabriel Agreste's son, even though he was a model, and she was a fashion designer, even though that always spelled disaster. It mattered that Tikki wasn't with her to remind her to breathe slowly and deeply, that Adrien's hand would never hold hers as if they were a couple, it just mattered that her dreams were useless, and what would her parents think?  
Marinette couldn't breathe past the pain of the sobs that tore through her. Maybe she was a lost cause, and this was all for nothing. Why couldn't she defend herself against him as if he were Chloe, and it was years ago? Is she that fragile that she resorts back to her old self under duress? Marinette hated herself, and she had no idea why. Why was she this way? Why was she so weak and so cowardly? Why were words impossible cues to get through this mess and disaster? Why was Tikki so silent?  
Her shoulders quaked, and she couldn't breathe as she rethought through all of her plans for the future. She couldn't have any of them now, could she? Gabriel Agreste had been in fashion for so long, that he had to know the ins and the outs and the patterns within. Not all patterns were material for designs, some were broken people living broken lives. Marinette felt hopeless as she sat crumbled on the floor.

Her fists as small and as solid as they felt, wrapped tightly over her bag, as she stared down at it mutely, feeling just how broken she was beyond whatever seemed reasonable. It wouldn't have hurt if he'd just been someone else, but it had been Gabriel Agreste, and her mind was so dejected that she couldn't remember that he'd liked her Bowler Hat or that Jagged Stone had liked the glasses and the album that she'd designed for him. None of that came to mind, and she bit her lip as another sob wracked through her and as her tears fell like drops just waiting to fill the ocean. She didn't see the butterfly land on her bag's handle, didn't notice it, until she felt it. Dark energy pooled through her veins, just begging her to turn towards it, to _listen. _'You must listen to the dark voices in your head, that spew lies that are so easy to believe.' Was what it seemed to be telling her.

"You can prove him wrong, and everyone else. Besides, what's wrong about liking a model, what's wrong about following your dreams, even if no one approves of how you choose to do so, Ruthless Designer."

Marinette bit her lip; 'how do you stop an Akuma once it's infected you? She didn't want to become the next person Akumatized; she had a responsibility to purify Akumas, not let herself get tricked by Hawkmoth.

"N-No." Something stuttered through her like an electric shock, and her head hurt as if just trying to deny him went against everything that her body longed to do.  
"Oh, Ladybug? It's too late to fight. How will Cat Noir handle it when he finds out that you've let yourself go? Or your precious model friend? Maybe it would just be easier to give up the Miraculous, and go out with a bang. You know that it won't be that hard to beat your partner, right?" It was smooth, and the soothing notes of it drew her in, as if to listen would be the better option. But, it was like ice, deceptively smooth and gentle. Once you drew closer, it froze your fingers under its cool chill. She knew better; she shouldn't let him win.

"I-I don't want to fight him." She insisted through gritted teeth, trying to remember what it felt like to be happy and confident. The feeling didn't come back, and she felt so angry, like a little agitation becoming much more rampant and overwhelming. Her teeth hurt from clamping down so hard, and she was focusing too hard to feel any relief. "Okay." She hated the idea of giving up, but would it get rid of the bug?

"Are you ready to work for me, Ladybug, and finally get the recognition you derserve? Your designs could really revolutionize Paris, and I'm sure that Adrien will fall for you just like that when he realizes just how talented you are." The smooth voice, somehow reminded her of how things could easily become so much more than what she had right now, how all her dreams could unfold in a million different ways and become so much better than before. It hurt to refuse, maybe she should just listen.

"Alright, Hawkmoth." What was the word that she needed to say to start the transformation, "Yes, Hawkmoth." She felt that dark energy consume her, starting from a dark electricity in her veins, and spreading to the gentle dusting over of clouds on her skin. Maybe the smog and the smoke would release the best version of herself yet?

"Marinette!" But, she was no longer Marinette as Tikki finally wound the corner, and encountered her chosen, wearing a dark gown that hugged her curves, as black as her earrings, and eyes that had gone cold and blue with calculations. It was as if Marinette had simply changed to someone a little colder and a little darker. Tikki shuddered, as if she was back in Hawkmoth's office, with no kind of escape.

* * *

Sometimes schedules felt like constraints as he held still for the millionth time that day, letting his model training take over as his mind zoned out, and he just let his thoughts drift far away from here. It had been all but easy to go from basketball to modeling, throw in a quick shower here, and some gel here, voila, he's good to go. He couldn't even go home for a quick break or to shower at home; he'd had to shower at Le Grand Paris on the way, and then manage to somehow look presentable for a photoshoot advertizing new Agreste 'originals' that today looked like ever other design to him. Adrien could not be expected to keep all of these designs straight in his head, could he? The day was too long, and the minutes felt like dry air that burnt his lungs.

He shook his head when he had a moment to try to clear it. He was just glum, that had to be it! Adrien bit back a sigh before he shifted to an expression that was surely 'dreamy.' It felt near impossible to keep this expression up and not just let his anxious fidgeting show; some practice barely kept you composed when you wanted to be elsewhere. He hoped that when Marinette sent him a text earlier, that that meant that his father was going to assign her as a designer in his company, despite how young she was. It was further proof that one of his first friends that he'd made when he started up at Francis Dupont was truly an inspiration.

As he shifted to something a little sadder, befitting of most of how he felt right now, unless he considered how absolutely inspiring his friends were. They truly kept him going on the long days, and he hoped to one day have a passion like that, something inspiring and incredible like Marinette's designs or Nino's playlists or Alya's journalism. She was very good at capturing high quality videos, impressive at somehow managing to come up with a series of interesting questions, and a fabulous writer to boot. Truly, his friends were incredible.

"An Akuma now? Monsieur Agreste will kill me, if we don't finish this photoshoot." His photographer paused, and despite how familiar all of this was, it still was worth noting that work required by his father had to be done on time no matter what. Adrien looked away from the photoshoot that made anything seem synthetic in its grasp to find a variety of people running around, beautiful designs on them, though on closer look, some of the clothes appeared to be alive. He straightened as if it finally registered that this was an Akuma, and that he had to deal with it.

"I'll go hide!" And Adrien was off, jumping over anything that stood in his way on a dead run to get into a hiding place to just transform. He could not risk anyone finding out just who Cat Noir was, after all. Adrien slid behind a tall, fat tree and called on his transformation, feeling that nervous jitter that always liked to appear whenever he needed to transform in public, and there was a risk that someone might see him or come to investigate a bright green glow. He'd never been found out from it, but just the chance never failed to pump adrenaline and nerves into his veins as if they were anything but interchangeable.

* * *

It took a while to navigate past strangling scarves, brilliant designs, and shirts that wrapped tightly over the victims like rope. He thought that his father's designs were constrictive, but really this was worse.

He hadn't seen Ladybug yet, and that wasn't enough to give him pause. She sometimes shown up later than he did as their arrival times weren't always on sync, but she never skipped an Akuma battle; she'd promised him that she wouldn't. Someone had to watch his back after he's watched hers after all.

Finally, he saw the Akuma, though her clothes were plainer than her targets' had been, it still fit her like a glove and gave him pause to double check that she was the Akuma victim. His first thought that he was quick to shake from his head was that she was very beautiful, with a gown that hugged her frame and somehow appeared elegant without the need of intricacies, in which she topped it all off with a light colored, faux fur overcoat. It was still too warm out for that overcoat to feel good.

Naturally, his second thought was that she was the cold in the air, because something about her was so stand offish and cold that he had to force back a shiver. Her Akumatized design was so simple, and yet within that simplicity was a kind of cold darkness that left him far too nervous for just what she would do.

"Hey, are you feeling as cold as you look?" He second guessed the words that had slipped from his mouth unbidden as she turned around. The words had sounded far less cruel in his head than they did when they met the air.

"Kitty?" Her voice went soft, but it was sort of cold. "You loved me, right? Why?"

It made no sense; it didn't register in his mind beyond just a pecularity, but this wouldn't be the first time that an Akuma claimed to know him personally. Many had came before, and many would likely come after. He paused long enough to check and see whether he knew her, and that pause was enough to make him stumble as he realized that that was Marinette. Anger boiled in his belly; he hadn't been home to look after her! They'd become something akin to best friends, though Adrien was reluctant to dethrone Nino from best friend, Marinette was rapidly coming close to that, especially since she'd dropped the stutter months ago.

Best of all, when Adrien had time to hang out with a friend, and Nino had date nights with Alya, Marinette didn't have date nights with anyone, and they could hang out.

"M-Marinette?" He'd forgotten about the suit and the mask for just a moment, and then she was close, oddly balanced on her black heels which of everything else really stood out as wrong for him. Adrien had spent enough time having to catch her when she'd fall over to appreciate how warm she was and to start to find it endearingly Marinette whenever it happened. Her balance had never been as balanced as it now was.

"I'm no longer Marinette, Kitty. I'm Ruthless Designer, and I'm prepared to show the world that truly my dreams are possible." Her smile turned cold smirk, and Cat Noir felt his belly drop to his toes. This was wrong, and there was something equally difficult about trying to fight his friend as how quickly she moved on those black heels.

"You were always an amazing designer!" He couldn't speak for her early childhood as he hadn't seen any of her designs from then, but he felt like she was a prodigy with how much he loved her designs and everyone did. Not just anyone impressed Gabriel Agreste or designed for Jagged Stone. You had to really be something to impress both of them. It didn't strike him that Cat Noir could not know that about Marinette, had never seen her designs while he was suited up, and wasn't as close to her in the suit as he was outside of it.

"How would you know?" Ruthless Designer paused as she stared him down, "Besides, I've learned how to tell when someone is _lying. _I'm not _naive." _Something in the way that she almost spat those words made him wonder just what his father had told her.

"I've heard that you've impressed Adrien Agreste, that he's constantly blown away by your designs." Cat Noir quickly improvised, because he had seen her designs and had loved them so much that it was hard to picture her beating herself up over them.

"He's a model, and..." She bit her lip, and something flickered in her eyes that he couldn't read in time, "He's more _naive_ than me." Instead of treating the word so harshly, it came out of her lips like a crack in her heart.

"Marinette..." He knew that reasoning with Akumas almost always got nowhere fast, but his heart broke for her. She'd always impressed him both for who she was, how firm she stood under opposition, even accidental opposition, and how incredibly creative she was. Adrien appreciated her so much as his friend that it felt physically painful to get ready to fight her.  
He didn't have long to consider it when she charged him, weaving a shirt into a yoyo-like shape, and when he backed up to avoid an untimely meeting with her heel, she flung the shirt forward, hitting him square in the chest and knocking him back. The memory of those that she'd 'redesigned' made him imagine a crawling sensation sneaking up from his chest and through his arms. He really didn't want to get wrapped up like some Parisians were.

Ladybug better come soon; she'd be able to keep her cool where he couldn't. Cat Noir jumped back to avoid getting hit again, and then shifted at the last second to charge her, baton at the ready, and trying to ignore the worms in his belly at the thought of just hitting her with the baton to slow her down and bide him some time as he waited for Ladybug.

She didn't even flinch when his baton came at her arm, instead she moved back into a gentle flip, not unlike the partner that he was still waiting on. He blinked; Hawkmoth had let her keep her black earrings that were such a signature part of her look that it pooled familiarity into his heart. That was unsual, because most of the time, an Akuma's design could be immensely different than how they looked when they were Akumatized.

Cat Noir quickly shifted to hold his baton in front of him like a baseball bat, just in case she came close again, though he'd be sure to move it as slow as she would allow and to be gentle. He didn't want to bruise her even though he knew that Ladybug's Miraculous Cure would heal any bruises. It had for him after all and had healed Parisians from much worse.

"Kitty, it's not baseball." Again, with that nickname that just seemed wrong coming from her lips. That's what his Lady called him, not Marinette. She wasn't Ladybug. The thought stuttered in his mind, but he payed it no more consideration.

"And, I still need to do something, Princess." He finally found the right nickname for her that should register in her head if she just remembered. Cat Noir wasn't sure what kinds of memories still were present for someone that has been Akumatized before they are freed from the control of Hawkmoth, since he hadn't been Akumatized, but he hoped that she remembered.

"I'm your 'Princess' still?" She sounded angry, "Especially since I won't ever be Adrien Agreste's Princess." For a second, he thought that she'd figured him out, had traced the errant strands of his identity like the dots on a Connect-A-Dot.

It finally hit him that she wasn't acting like she'd figured him out, just looking a little heartbroken. His own heart stuttered in his chest as he tried to remind himself that a lopsided confession while Akumatized didn't count for much, but he could imagine suddenly where things would fit if they were dating. She'd no longer be competing with Nino's spot, she'd have a spot completely her own: his girlfriend, a best friend and yet just a hint more, someone to keep him going through long photoshoots and someone to have his own date nights with, to go to some fancy restaurant that his father had told him girls liked back when Adrien was just a kid, and he still had his mom at home, and things were simpler.

He shook the thoughts from his head as he'd done before with different thoughts during the photoshoot earlier that suddenly felt like years ago. The dry air that burnt his lungs became cool water that drowned them. Cat Noir couldn't let his mind wander; he needed to deal with this Akuma, though his heart lurched in his chest at the thought that a close friend of his actually liked him like that, even though it was a silly, potentially selfish thought.

Akumas weren't always sincere though they always spoke over how they felt at a given time. He couldn't count on full sincerity when Hawkmoth was controling someone.

Before his mind completely cleared, he felt the stiff press off a shirt against his throat, "I thought that you were to be a distraction, not to be distracted." It was as cold as if she hadn't gotten over anything that she'd said before, and Cat Noir gulped, before he remembered about Cataclysm.

"Cataclysm!" He hissed out, bringing one clawed hand overtop of the shirt at his throat, being very careful to not touch her hand with that destructive power. He didn't want to hurt her.

"Don't you know that I have more?" But, she backed up, giving him just a second to breathe, and finally, he realized that Ladybug wasn't coming. Cat Noir was not supposed to use Cataclysm unless Ladybug was there backing him up, and she'd promised to be there during every Akuma fight. He knew that it was being reported on, had heard the buzz of the news when he'd went in search of her, and Ladybug did not break promises.

It finally hit him. Ladybug didn't break her promise, and Marinette as angry and sullen as she was, also had been doing and saying some strange things. It felt surreal as his belly seemed yet again to capsize on him, as he reconsidered the fact that his partner in fighting crime was his classmate that sort of liked him and was a great friend was the Akuma that he'd have to face off against.

He couldn't do this alone.

* * *

Where, where was Master Fu's place? He stumbled along as he quickly found a place to detransform and continue his journey on foot. Master Fu had always shown up at his place; he'd never went there though he remembered a vague address(?) on a sheet of paper for an assignment that he'd done ages ago. It felt like an eternity as he tried to read the numbers and names of buildings that he passed at a dead run. His belly swirled in aggravation, and he couldn't seem to remember if it was supposed to be this street or the next one over.

What had it said? He nearly stumbled enough to fall when he caught sight of a man standing in front of a little medical office, promising Chinese cures. That man wasn't just any man, so he turned around hurrying to the house that Master Fu disappeared into. Finally, he managed to enter it, feeling as exhausted as if he'd just had twenty one matches in a row of basketball, was fencing Kagami for three hours with no sign of stopping, and had run twenty five marathons. He still wasn't sure if that was his heartbeat in his ears or nerves that refused to leave.

"Cat Noir?" His voice was quiet, "I guess that you've figured it out."

"Master, Master Fu." Adrien got out, "I have reason to believe that the Ruthless Designer is actually Ladybug Akumatized, and I came to get help. Cat Noir and Ladybug are pretty equally matched if she isn't a better fighter than me, and I can't do this alone." It sank in that this was really it, if he didn't find a way to get Marinette un-Akumatized.

"Yes, that's Ladybug. Tikki came to get me, assuring that you'd find your way here." Master Fu answered, and then Adrien looked over and saw an adorable and glum Kwami, definitely Ladybug's Kwami, though the glum look didn't suit her at all.

"I need to get Queen Bee, Rena Rouge, and Carapace's help." It came out in the soft thud of a breath. He paused, realizing that he wasn't sure just who Carapace and Rena Rouge were, "At least Queen Bee's."

Master Fu opened the box, and something in the expression on his face as serious as it was made Cat Noir wonder if he should be figuring out who Carapace and Rena Rouge were.

"I'll get them, Cat Noir." Tikki paused, wondering if it was better to switch to his civilian name since he wasn't transformed right now, or to keep referring to him as if he were. "You get Queen Bee. I'll make sure that Rena Rouge and Carapace join you in battle." It still felt like a physical blow to know that her Chosen was currently raging havoc on Paris as an Akuma. It had been all too easy to get away once Hawkmoth had transformed, but it still felt too late for her. If she'd gotten out, just a second sooner, maybe Marinette wouldn't be Akumatized right now.

"Okay," Adrien nodded, trusting her right away, with a sort of ease that Tikki was glad that he had as he rushed off to transform and find Chloe.

* * *

Tikki moved as quickly as she could down Parisian streets, hoping that Alya and Nino would be close to Marinette, recording for the LadyBlog, nervously rushing and taking the chance that they'll be faithful to their promises to return the Miraculouses back to Master Fu later, as she was too small to carry both boxes to them. She nearly ran into Alya's neck when she arrived.

"Whoa." Alya breathed, "A Kwami? Are you Ladybug's?" She'd turned off her video app, pausing to address Tikki.

"Yeah." Tikki answered softly, "Cat Noir needs Carapace and Rena Rouge's help! Ladybug can't help right now." Something in her presence registered, and immediately Alya and Nino were attentive.

"Where's our Miraculous?" Alya asked, managing to find words.

"At Master Fu's. I couldn't carry them both. Hurry!" Tikki rushed off, letting the two teens trail behind her, moving as fast as she could, other than leaving the two behind and confused. She couldn't chance that they won't be able to get ahold of the Miraculouses to transform.

Alya and Nino stayed pretty close, and she imagined that if she looked back at them, they'd look just as exhausted as Adrien had when he'd arrived at Master Fu's. Tikki pushed those thoughts from her head; it would slow her down if she paused to overthink and rethink everything.

* * *

Cat Noir trusted Queen Bee, and though he'd trusted her for years with most things, now he trusted her more than ever with his life. She'd been quick to deduce that that was Marinette that they were fighting, and she was watching his back as he dodged another blow, and watched her launch her Spinning Top, and felt immense relief intermingled with worry as it made Marinette freeze. Her blue eyes still followed his movement back.

"Do you need help?" It came out as forced lightheartedness as Rena Rouge landed beside Cat Noir, with Carapace following just a half a second behind.

"We do." Queen Bee retorted, "You're late."

"We arrived as fast as we could." Rena Rouge shrugged, before she paused to get a closer look at the Akuma, "Is that...?" She gulped past something suddenly lodged in her throat. At her attention, Carapace looked over, and found himself staring at one of his closest friends. That couldn't be, could it?

"It's Marinette." Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes, "Dupain-Cheng." She finished, just in case they didn't get the picture, "She's giving us a run for our money, so you better hurry up." She shifted, all gold and black, beautifully lit up in bee colors.

"We can't wait all day, and your suits are looking a little worn." The Ruthless Designer looked as if eager for something to do. Cat Noir shifted back into a fighting stance, not pausing to consider just what else he should do, and come up with a strategy with the others. He dove in, pressing his baton close against her stomach to knock her back further, and she pushed back just as hard against him, wrapping a stiff shirt over his arm, holding him back from managing another attack.

"Cat Noir." Queen Bee sighed, shaking her head, "Go get him." She grumbled as if the others automatically knew what she'd been doing all this time, and Carapace moved, using his shield to bash the Ruthless Designer's arm, so that she backed up and left the shirt there.

Cat Noir flipped back, trying to shake the shirt off of his arm, looking half distracted, "What do we do?"

"What happened to her that led to her getting Akumatized?" Rena Rouge asked, shifting on her feet.

"M-," Cat Noir winced at just beginning that syllable, "Gabriel Agreste rejected her for his company and left her discouraged." It was the best way to put it, but without knowing how brutal his father could be, it would seem impossible. He frowned as he glanced back over at her, hoping that it helped.

"So 'destroyed dreams?'" Rena Rouge sounded angry, and it made Cat Noir wonder just who his partner had picked, and just how close they were without the masks. Then again, he was one of her best friends outside of the mask too.

"Yeah." Cat Noir shook his head to clear it from speculation, "He treated her as if no dreams were possible, so she's trying to create them."

"I'll get an illusion going while you keep her busy?" Rena tried, not entirely used to taking the absolute lead.

"Sounds good." Cat Noir turned to dive back into the battle as Queen Bee and Carapace instinctively stayed back to guard Rena's back, Carapace setting up his shield in Marinette's line of sight of her best friend, so that she couldn't see her let alone attack her, and Chloe stood back to guard her from behind, attentive in case she needed to dive into action.

Cat Noir swung his baton around as if it were the choppers of a helicopter, and swung it into a lazy arc, just touching her hip lightly, not enough to hurt her. The Ruthless Designer pulled him closer by the shirt still wrapped tightly around his arm, offsetting his balance, and sending him face first at the ground beneath her feet. She almost danced back with how lithely she moved, and he was back on his feet within the next matter of seconds, looking for a weak point if only to hold her back for a few moments.

He shifted on his boots and charged her with a well aimed baton, going straight infront of him, enough to push against the middle of her belly and push her back, though she didn't let it land as she flipped the baton with a solid thrust down of her hand, sending it catapulting far away from them.

"Now, you're defenseless." She shifted to press closer, "And I can grab that ring of yours and call it a day."

Cat Noir gulped, backing up, not afraid so much of being baton-less, but more worried that she'd managed to grab that ring off his fingers. He paused, just long enough to drop and roll past her feet to pick his baton back up, eyes never leaving his Akumatized partner.

"Come here, Kitty." She purred, and he shook his head, hearing that tone of voice laced with the wicked ice that being Akumatized seemed to cause in her. He hated how fake and how cold it all sounded. Marinette's voice was supposed to be full of the warmth that came naturally to her, not the coldness that laced it so easily now.

Cat Noir twisted his baton around and jabbed it at her feet, which she just easily jumped over, and aimed a well targeted shirt at his chest. It felt sharper than the other ones, but it didn't pierce his suit as he backed up, longing for something to distract her, so that he wouldn't have to fight her any longer.

"Cat Noir!" He twisted around at Rena Rouge's shout, and he blinked at what he found that greeted them. There was a small, pink brick building with Marinette on a bright sign above it, and standing outside of the cute building were him sans mask and Marinette's parents.

The Ruthless Designer fumbled as she looked over at the mirage, the illusion, and then Tom and Sabine spoke, "We're so proud of you, Marinette."

"So proud of me?" As Marinette was shaking this from her mind as if partially aware that this was an illusion, Queen Bee nudged him, "Get to her bag, where she has the clothes hidden."  
Cat Noir nodded, stepping back from Queen Bee's side to hesitantly approach Marinette as she blinked past dazed and surprised tears.

"We always knew that your designs were the best, and your designs sell so well!" Tom and Sabine spoke together again, and something about it was warm and sweet despite the fact that Adrien knew that it was an illusion.

His illusion based self smiled, warm and genuine, and he held out his ring covered hand, only to blink when he saw another ring on his finger.

Before Cat Noir could figure out just what his imagined self would say, he Cataclysmed Marinette's bag against her resistance and the biting fear that as she worked to pull her mind out of the illusion and fight him off, that she'd get hurt by his Cataclysm. A darkened Akuma fled from the bag where he cut, and Marinette appeared before him.

* * *

Her head felt whoozy and unsteady as she blinked open her eyes for what felt like the first time. Marinette glanced over just in time to see Cat Noir grab a dark butterfly which she slowly realized was an Akuma, _her _Akuma. The last thing that she rememebered was a kind of pain that never seemed to flee, though right now, it seemed far from her and far from her mind.

"What happened?" Marinette muttered, still trying to piece together just what she'd done to Paris.

"Girl, what happened to you?" Something in Rena softened, and Marinette's heart temporarily melted at seeing her best friend step closer and wrap her arms around her in a steady and warmth inducing hug.

"I'll hold this for Ladybug over there." Cat Noir pointed with his free hand, and Marinette realized that somehow he knew who she was. She had to find Tikki and soon, and then Paris would finally go back to normal, and Marinette would live to not repeat this ever again.


	14. Restore

This was always the moment that caught her breath and really made her pause and just look out at what swirled through Paris at her fingertips. It was quiet, not a hint of buzzing, and it felt as if all of the air around them was held, since no one wished to break the silence first. Little ladybugs went out by the hundreds, and everywhere they touched was restored.

Ladybug could scarcely believe that this came from her hands, from her power as a superheroine, that she could just say two words, toss a 'Lucky Charm' in the air, and watch as suddenly everything wouldn't be the way it was a moment ago, but somehow bettered, restored to its old glory, before Akumas peeled down the street, eager to change things for whatever held that particular person's attention.

The ladybugs weren't biased, but consistent, and her heart still sung in her throat as she looked out around her, watching as the Eiffel Tower was lifted back up from its tilting angle, watched as it was restored, and appeared as if the shining gem of Paris once more. This effort would have taken tens of hundreds of people hours to do, and yet as she watched, it came back to life right before her eyes.

It never grew old, not even when it tickled through her veins healing _her _bruises after a difficult Akuma battle, not even the day that it had to right Cat Noir's arm, repairing a weirdly bent arm that was probably broken back to a perfect one that could easily hold the baton that was his weapon of choice. She wondered just how he saw the little ladybugs that gave life back to what life was stolen from, as if it were just a simple claim to restore.

Ladybug loved the thrill of it, even as she almost bit her lip as she watched on tiptoes, her ladybugs leave her line of site, at every angle as she knew without turning around to double check. It just felt right as they restored order, calm, and the quiet atmosphere of a city recovering from what held it back before.

They worked quick and yet their noiseless work brought more than an outward restoration, more than simple medical healing, it brought with a restoration within, as calm and quiet arrived, and nerves melted away. You couldn't be anxious without somehow tainting the work of the Cure, even though everyone was sure that anxiety could still remain. It just felt calmer somehow, like the tranquil lapping of water in a cool, clear lake as you slowly wade in, feeling the coolness ease the hot of a Summer day at just a simple touch.

Ladybug always felt it as Ladybug, as if it almost extended from her fingers, restoring the order that she always hoped for and longed for, when it seemed so far away. She doubted that she'd ever taste it as Marinette where the Cure is an outside force bringing restoration to all of your newest marks, restoring the buildings around you, and reminding you of the beautiful waterfull of lights casting down over a city like an expansive and healing net, tight at first, but with a loose, healing touch that somehow took the lost weights off your shoulders, and set you once again right with the world.

She bit back the giddy laugh that wanted to leave her throat as she watched her city become restored, as she saw the delicate work underwent with precision, as she truly felt at peace with her city and part of it, a living, breathing part of something greater than herself. It's why she loved Paris, for these little moments of dear unity, that she couldn't articulate or put into words. There was just something magical about the healing touch of the Miraculous Cure, something profound about watching destruction get restored and come to full life again. There was something magical about watching joy meet the lives of others nearby, especially those she loved, as things that they held dear became whole once again.

It was a level of intimacy with her city that she couldn't imagine or even try to pretend didn't exist. She became one, healed as one, with every person in Paris from the familiar faces to the newcomers, from those that she'd one day have to fight when they become Akumas, to those that won't be Akumatized, from her best friends to her worst enemies. All of Paris became a great big family for her, restoring, and flourishing, and making her feel more whole than she was just a moment ago.

She loves Paris as she's restored with it, loves it from the pinpricks of her fingers that clutch Lucky Charms and Yoyos, from the curling of her toes on the ground beneath her feet whether rooftops or cement are beneath them, from her heart that overflows with warmth, from the proximity to the city. She can't take Paris out of restoring Paris, and she thrills at the gentle and steady connection, a connection that's obvious and simple, and yet feels profound in how it is lived out and uttered.

Ladybug doesn't close her eyes when the Cure finally finishes its chosen task, but watches to see how sound and enthusiasm fill the post-Akuma air, and she relishes just the proximity to everyone else that her city supplies from apartments to hotels, every person in Paris feels close to her. She smiles as the tingling leaves her fingers, smiles as she goes to tell her partner goodbye, and smiles when she sees that he was watching the Miraculous Cure at work as well.


	15. Support

Support's a word filled with warmth and joy, tugging close, and holding you near. It's something that reminds her of the image of parents holding a baby instead of putting her in the crib, _her _parents. Marinette smiles at just the thought of it, knowing that there are plentiful pictures of her maman and her papa holding her in their arms, beaming such bright smiles, and she knows that her grandma took some of the pictures, herself, though she also knows that there's a story within the way that she grew as her grandma's pictures often shown her at vastly different sizes, all ranging from recently born to three years old.

She'd loved the warm and safe shelter of her parents' arms, loved knowing that her mom could protect her if anything went wrong, and she loved the sheer joy and cradle of a hug nowadays. Marinette wasn't quite as young as she used to be; being a teenager feels way different than being four years old and wanting to stay in Papa's arms instead of going to class. It had always felt safer somehow.

* * *

Support means more than the physical qualities that come to mind, but it means something beyond them, something as easy as knowing that as she walked to class beside her papa that he would never force her into a situation that would hurt her, and so she stays close, gingerly reaching out a still so small hand to wrap around her father's larger hand, for a moment. It wouldn't be long, and she'd be there and her father would give a simple presentation, and the whole day would feel like it began anew.

"You'll be the greatest designer that Paris knows one day." Tom told her with such a warm smile, and she wonders just how he knows, especially when part of this event tended to reveal the career's that children often longed for, because it wasn't uncommon for someone to follow in their child's footsteps. She'd heard so many times already from Chloe or Sabrina that Chloe would make a good mayor one day. Marinette shuddered to think of the day, but she wouldn't pause to consider all that many alternatives.

Marinette takes comfort in the fact that she's not the only kid chasing different careers, even though she loved working in the bakery. She loved the smell of fresh bread, just how it tasted hot out of the oven, loved decorating cakes and cupcakes, could thrill over making macaroons, and loved kneading dough whenever she got a chance. It had become a haven of hers over the years, full of positive memories, easily killing stress and frustration before it overcame her, and helping her to see the positive side of things. Her parents' love and support got her through the fact that she didn't dream of being a baker one day, that her goals followed a different path, and her decisions would one day lead to something else. It didn't stop her from savoring the taste of warm chocolate chip cookies or getting to be one of the lucky ones in Paris to not have to leave her house to enjoy Patisserie style bread in the morning, warm, not having to fight off chill on cold days as its brought home or having to grow too hot under the sun when you feel your stomach grumble in hunger.

"But, aren't you already the greatest designer in Paris?" Marinette asked; she admired her father's designs, how he could decorate a cake and leave you in awe and breathless, how he could somehow make creations both beautiful and delicious. She doubted that she could compare to that, really, when she was only a fashion designer.

"It's different with you." Tom laughed, and his support warmed her belly, reminding her that he'd always support and encourage her no matter what.

"How is it different?" She asks it softly, almost afraid to let the words hit the air.

"You create designs that can be lived in, can be brought to life differently from person to person, and they aren't eaten within a matter of hours or a couple of days, no matter how long it took to make them." Tom told her, having paused to consider just exactly how to put into words the way that he thought and felt about it.

"But mine get old and worn down and have to be replaced, yours are more than just beautiful, they are delicious too." She couldn't help but admit how she felt about her father's designs, and fashion could go out of season, so very easily, while a cake or bread only went bad if not enjoyed right away.

"I believe," Tom paused, "that your designs are the type that Paris will come back for and not forget. Your designs will last in a way that mine cannot. You're incredible."

The fact that he said _'you're _incredible,' and not _'they're _incredible,' warmed her heart, hitting solidly in her mind and making her really focus on the words. It meant something that her designs weren't the incredible ones, but she was the incredible one. It felt like praise that she hadn't merited, and yet it warmed her so much that she didn't want to fight it off.

"Thank you." It was soft and nearly muttered, but it was genuine too. Oftentimes, people don't see their own warmth, their own awesomeness, even when it is brought out and shown to them. Marinette's warm smile could light up Paris for three days in only the span of a minute.

The best starts to days were often unpredictable and impossible to imagine in advance. Marinette would go to class and be around other teenagers while wearing a bright beaming smile that only the love and support of her family seemed to place so steadily on her lips.

* * *

Support thrives when given, and she pauses to hug Cat Noir, to just press close, and let him know that somehow she saw how incredible he was today, she saw his struggle, and saw how he overcame it.

"You did good out there." She steps back, awkwardly, suddenly almost unsure of whether her unexpected hug gave the encouragement and support that she had wanted it to, that she had felt so deep within her, "Thank you." _Thank you for being an invaluable part of the team, of doing the things that sometimes I'm positive that I couldn't do, and thank you for stepping in and thank you for your supoort and strength and your ability to think on the spot when you need to, and for listening and doing what you can. Just, thank you. _Hugs don't have words, but she realizes that its fitting that if they could speak, that's what her maybe five minute hug would tell Cat Noir from her heart, because it's a ramble much like how she can be quite often.

"Thank you." He echoes her hug, and for a second, she wonders if he heard it. She smiles, letting it grow and get warm, letting it spring to life. Ladybug is every bit of Marinette at the moment as she can be without letting her mask slip. She feels like herself, happy and content, and for a moment, it takes her by surprise that she's in the suit. Cat Noir's her best friend, and she thrills that she gets to support him in somewhat of the same way that he supports her every Akuma battle.

"It's true." She insists, refusing the normal go to phrases, because somehow they don't speak straight to her heart in the moment, like she wants them to.

He smiles and doesn't even begin to say anything else. The air seems to still, and Paris becomes a relaxing haven to the two superheroes that aren't about to rush off to their homes or wherever to detransform. They will eventually have to beat the timers buzzing on their Miraculous and get somewhere safe from prying eyes, but right now, their mutual support of one another mingles in the air and becomes one as they stand next to each other without worry or thought of leaving.


	16. Triumph

Not every success felt as bold and extreme as a triumph did, though she wouldn't quite discredit them either. It just felt different to win at Ultimate Mecha Strike Three against her papa than to defeat a particularly tiring and draining Akuma. Somedays, it felt like an extreme challenge when lack of sleep coupled with pure adrenaline that always seemed to wear off too fast and a bunch of busy things hanging over her head. She had a million things left to do from homework to projects to long hours of study sessions to a design that she couldn't get out of her head to an Akuma to defeat to baking to some other random thing.

Being a teen superhero made her count her successes in different ways than she figured she would otherwise.

* * *

Two fifty nine lit up her clock, and she wished that she could say that it was in the afternoon, but, no, it wasn't. She typed the last sentence to the project that was due tomorrow or rather that day, and she paused to reflect as the time hit three just what that meant as far as sleep went. She'd already had three Akumas this week and four last week, and then on top of that what seemed to be three other projects and a book to read for French. She sighed; sleep despite being a necessity was not always a possible thing.

She slipped out of bed to place her computer up and to grab her pajamas, two hours of sleep were better than none. Marinette stifled a yawn though a lazy smile bloomed on her face: success! The Akumas hadn't ruined her ability to get her homework done, though she hoped that the presentation wasn't poorly done. She'd gotten through something seemingly impossible, and she could balance everything, maybe, if she passed out the next night before she could get changed for bed, it would be okay.

A seemingly little thing, finishing a project for class, felt like a massive success; it felt like a triumph, almost like a mini victory against Hawkmoth. 'You may have screwed up my schedule, but you haven't stopped me from getting this done!' She felt victorious even as she stifled a yawn and crawled into bed, eager for rest to come quick and easy. The success was only dulled by sleeping in the next morning and being difficult to wake up, and struggling to get to class on time. She made it exactly twenty seconds before class was to begin, but she wasn't late, and she'd get through this. Another little success that promised her that she could keep going.

* * *

It's complicated as she tries to steadily sew the pieces of fabric together, trying to mold a shape by hand that she'd been working on for hours. It had to be done soon; it felt like she'd worked on it for years and years, which both seemed to breed a sort of love for the project and a kind of dread that it was lasting this long. She knew that the love would outweigh the dread in time, if she got it right.

Marinette's hand threatened to shake, and she forced her concentration into keeping it steady and still, moving her fingers the way that she'd been taught years ago to hold a needle, the pull and tug, the gentle movement eased her tired mind. She felt worn out, and the project felt like it would take forever to finish, and she was sure that she had homework piling up or something or that Hawkmoth would force her to take a break with another Akuma. The last one had been two days ago, and sometimes it seemed like he just liked to spite her.

Her shoulders felt stiff, and she almost wanted to roll them, but stopped just in time. No use in ruining the line that she was sewing, no use in making her practically start over all over again. She'd been at this for hours, and it somehow seemed as if her body was in constant complaint. She sighed, past the thousand thoughts threatening to tumble from her lips into ceaseless worry and anxiety.

Marinette kept telling herself that since she had been working at this for so long that it had to be good. Weren't the best designs slaved over? They often sold for a pretty penny too, but still. The best novels seemed to take years harboring in someone's minds and thoughts and hearts and somehow ending up as words not just splattered on a page, but deliberately left there to be unpacked and understood. She doesn't doubt that novelists could spend years on a novel or so many hours of one year, because this, has been a steady project of hers for a while.

When it neared its end a while ago or seemed to, she got excited to finally begin sewing it, piecing beautiful fabrics together into a stunning creation. Her hands hated her mind's work, and she wondered if she really put them through so much stress and strain, from designing on paper to sewing and beyond. Marinette stubbornly pushed those thoughts from her head, had to focus. She narrowed in on the steady line, the almost slanting movements of her hands with the needle, how she leaned forward, pressing close as if to be absorbed into the very fabric, itself. It was a process, but one she loved very much.

Her back cried in pain, a pain that she ignored; it was nothing compared to Ladybug, she reminded herself when it almost grew hard to focus. Passion sometimes required self sacrificing work, and while she couldn't claim to be one of the greats, she at least knew some of their suffering. She bit her lip when her back and sides and hands and arms started to complain too much; it served as a distraction and directed the pain elsewhere, to a part of her body that hurt and ached less. She smiled when hands that felt crooked and worn were pulled away from the fabric, finally, and she examined her stitching, watching it closely, checking for any errors or fallacies, chasing perfection that wasn't always easy to find.

A slow smile came to light on her face as she realized that she'd found a triumph: a success brewed on hard work and the aches and pains that sometimes liked to thrive when you were doing something you loved for hours on end. She paused to reexamine her work, to recheck that she didn't miss anything. Her smile didn't falter; she was triumphant.


	17. Failure

She doesn't know whether it was the Akuma fight the night before last or if it was something else entirely: too much homework in one week or her tendency of struggling to get to bed at a halfway decent hour lately, but she crashes. It's a small thing, really; she'd been working on some assignment due the next day and had fallen asleep, sentence half written, project discarded on her bed. Marinette almost blames the designs that she'd been working on for sucking up her time, before she remembers that it had only been three that week.

She grumbles as she finally wakes up, ready and eager to shake off the tiredness from the night before as she pauses to consider just what she'd been writing before she passed out. It seems like a forgotten realm as she squints and nearly forgets the topic as she reads over her half written point. Marinette sighs, but she sinks into her work, hating the failure for what it is. She blames herself, for something, maybe managing her time poorly or spending too much time defining fashion or for taking a break from homework for at least fifteen minutes yesterday to talk to Alya on the phone. She doesn't however blame her body for being tired, for being worn out, and worn down. It seems impossible to blame just a part of her, when surely, she must have done something wrong.

* * *

Marinette counts the stitches; there are at least two or three extra ones. She slowly rips them out to start over, tired eyes, bleary from work and rework, and she doesn't know what's worse: that her brain is too tired to count the right amount of stitches as she sews or that this is the upteenth time that she's worked on this same part.

She stretches out mid-stitch, grumbling against her tired and worn body as she starts over again, trying to focus past the tired haze slowly taking over and consuming her mind. She doesn't complain outloud, but the words are there in her mind and in her thoughts. She plots a way to make time rush by and designing to be easy to articulate in its actual form. It feels like it's easy to draw one now, even though sometimes it isn't, and she counts her stitches slowly, careful to not count and recount the same ones. Taking it slow, Marinette's pretty sure that she's getting somewhere close to the right amount, but her tired mind wants to quit.

* * *

She hates it! The sketching is slow going and terrible, and all of her designs scatter from her mind the moment she tries to put them on paper. What was the blue hat that stuck in her mind just three minutes ago? Was their lace or tulle on that dress from a second ago? Were men's clothes easier than the designs that slipped and fled from her mind?

She knows that they aren't any easier. There are different rules in male fashion, different policies, and strategies and sometimes they are harder to execute. Marinette guesses tulle, and hates the result, quickly erasing what feels like a botched attempt from an unyielding imagination.

Marinette sighs, letting her pencil still its dance across the page, counting to three, looking around, trying to capture the atmosphere and mood that seemed to swirl in her mind just moments ago and left in a sudden flurry. She hated this, but she couldn't think of something any better, though she wanted to, longed to, design something else, something new and exciting, something that kept her fingers thrumming through it, something that inspired her for ages to come.

An artist can be inspired by their own work, whether that's known or not. She pauses to bite the tip of her eraser, imagining a world where designs worked when motivation and effort compelled them too. Inspiration was such a key factor sometimes that she almost wanted to trash half a book of designs.

Marinette pictured the dress again, pausing to catch every detail; there were ruffles and lace, something seemingly delicate, but intricate in the ways that it would be followed through with. Just a quick glance would remind you of that as she paused to erase her work completely and start over again. It was too simple.  
She erased it. It was too complicated to flow together and mold into something great. The design felt lopsided and off. She tried again and again, but in her mind, it was beautiful, but on page, it wasn't.  
Marinette sighed, but she wasn't sure if she was angry anymore or just frustrated or worn or just bored from lack of genuine inspiration, where a pencil on a page only produced what felt like a child's drawing, when really, it was a masterpiece in the works. All great artists had their share of failures, and Marinette frowned in concentration as it seemed like this day she was only meant to fail at her artwork that she loved so much, her fashion designs that could fill books with beautiful depth of style and design, something creative to leave others inspired.

Today, they just fell flat, and it felt easy to picture herself just as a failing artist. Each step was riddled with difficulty and struggle, and she looked at her failures for designs that couldn't portray what was on her mind or execute something even a hint of cute or unique or beautiful. She folded up her book and called it a day. Inspiration seemed a million miles away, and she couldn't always wait for it as she tried to push on through.


	18. Fears

Something richoted inside of her, tumbling and fumbling, and throwing her heart into her throat. Ladybug shifted, getting ready to throw her yoyo before the realization finally came to her that it was too late to throw her yoyo and pull him away from danger. She was positive that her heart was racing in her chest, that she couldn't quite see past the water that suddenly surfaced, and that her brain was far more sluggish than it was supposed to be.

"Cat Noir!" He tumbled like a freight train sent carreening off of its tracks, and she practically threw herself underneath him to catch him as he fell. She hated the pain that he had to be going through, all for her sake and Paris' sake, and she swallows past the lump grown steady in her throat and just stops herself before him, glancing down, trying to reach out a gloved hand and soothe the aching pain that went through his body.

She hated Akuma battles like this, though she equally hated the ones that manipulated her partner, whenever they had to face off against them. "Kitty," She whispers underneath her breath, finally touching his shoulder, worrying over the wound on his stomach, and though she knew that things always got better with Miraculous Cure, she hated to see her partner keeled over in pain. Ladybug was only one half of the superhero team, and she doubted with all of her heart that she could get through this without him.

She feels only the slightest relief when his smile meets her glance, as weak and struggling as that smile is. Ladybug both longs to pull him to his feet, so that he can fight alongside her again and wants to leave him to rest, preferably with some medicine and pain killers and a soft pillow to rest his head, anything to help him recover while she finished dealing with the Akuma.

Ladybug even knows with certainty that he won't let himself stay down and out during the battle. Cat Noir will pull himself up to his feet, even as she worries over him, even as she fears for him when he takes those hits during an Akuma battle.

* * *

She holds her identity in her grasp, thinly, weakly, when she finds herself worrying over just what would happen when she'd be found out. What if someone she knows is Hawkmoth? What if she ends up on video and all of Paris knows? What if her parents ground her forever from being Ladybug due to her constantly lying to them or out of worry or fear?  
What if Alya doesn't want her to be her best friend since she lied to her about her identity? What if her teachers don't understand and she gets twice as much homework? Or what if they make her classes way too easy, and everyone else gets jealous and upset over her? She sighs as every scenario sounds like slow torture, and then she freezes as if her nerves suddenly led her down a different pathway. What if Cat Noir doesn't want to be her partner anymore when he finds out just who she is? She could lose her partner and her best friend.

Cat Noir keeps her going when it seems or feels impossible to go on, and she hates the thought of not having him as her friend and her partner in fighting crime. She bites her lip as it brings to mind another fear of hers, that he'd somehow regret working with her, and that they'd have to fight each other, severing their bond entirely. Ladybug can't imagine him working with Hawkmoth, but somehow her mind feels free to conjure up them being enemies somehow and ditching her in an imagined land that she hates.

* * *

Ladybug fears that Paris will somehow fall to ruin, that she will have to walk home in a desolate land to find her parents dead or kidnapped for ransom. The ransom will be her earrings, her Miraculous, and she pushes that ball of nausea down into her stomach in a wild attempt to forget it. Marinette never wants to walk home and find that somehow she'd failed the very people that she loved the most.

She fears seeing Alya die while chasing an Akuma down for the LadyBlog, fears seeing Rena Rouge fall. During those moments, she almost regrets choosing who she chose to help them fight against certain Akumas. She treasures her friends too much to want to see them fail or get really hurt, and she realizes that this is one of the reasons that she can't let Cat Noir know her secret identity right now; it would only make the pain all the worse during a difficult Akuma battle.

Sometimes she fears Hawkmoth and her own imminent death. Being Ladybug means sacrifice, and while her suit can protect her from most things, it is not invincible. She can get hurt, can die, and she hates the thought that haunts her nightmares and makes her body want to either tremble in fear or be paralyzed in fear. She shakes at the memory of those nightmares; it always haunts her when she wishes that it wouldn't.

* * *

She fears that one day, she'll fail Paris, that her Miraculous Cure won't work, that she'll fail to keep Paris safe. She fears that she'll somehow fail to save lives, and that others will die, that Paris will become desolate because of her. She fears that she isn't worthy of her Miraculous. She fears the disappointment that will fill everyone at just looking at her.

Ladybug fears that somehow she'll be the one to destroy Paris. She fears that she'll somehow lose Tikki, make some stupid decision or Tikki gets fatally sick. She fears that somehow she was the wrong one chosen for her Miraculous, that she's just stumbling through the motions. She fears that her fear will consume her and that that will be her downfall.

She tries to be brave, tries to be brave for Paris and for Cat Noir, tries to be brave so that Master Fu and Tikki find a reason to be proud of her and so that they know that she wasn't the wrong girl chosen. Ladybug sighs as she shakes her head, trying to throw away her fear, and stay strong and determined. She can't dwell in fear, even when it seems so easy to do, even when sometimes she just falls into it. Ladybug smiles the best kind of smile that she can and takes a deep breath and wipes her mind clean from fear for another moment.

She'll get through this; too many people are believing in her for her to let fear win. Ladybug is stronger than her fear, and she will always work hard to be stronger than the fear that likes to cling to her and debilitate her.


	19. New Look

Midnight blue carefully crafted down her back, held tightly together, swaying only as a joint unit. It was held so closely that it didn't really flow, but whenever she let it down, it flowed without ending, without being caught or hung up on something else; it became as light as a feather. From held being closely held together, it became something soft like waves, following a gentle stroke and curling and hugging her back.

For the most part though, she spent several, stolen moments in her room, running a brush through her soft and beautifully dark hair, tracing any tangles or wandering curls out of it, sketching almost straight lines, but due to the waves in them, never entirely straight. She pulls the hair into three categories and braids it carefully, finding the familiar motions relaxing and easy. It keeps her hands busy and soothes a wayward part of her.

Oftentimes, her mornings feel too packed, so sometimes she braids her hair at night before bed, being careful to hold it off to the side, so that the hair doesn't start to fall out of her carefully etched in braids, so that it stays steady and strong and _together._

When the littlest changes occur, they affect Ladybug as well.

* * *

She doesn't know if it's the smoothing of the black parts of suit, as they cover her arms, letting red peek out at the ends of her gloves, letting the black smooth her curves, arms, and legs into the shadows of night, or whether it's her hair that falls steadily in single form down her back, braided and somehow just a bit longer as Ladybug, red bow holding the braid in place, delicately, making rigid uniform fall into a delicate nature, that draws her partner up short one day.

It had been during patrol, and Ladybug already felt eons older from the day that she claimed her Miraculous until today. Something reminded her that as she'd grown just a bit taller, her body slowly growing into a gentle womanhood, and as her eyes became sharper from long days as Ladybug, more zeroed in, focused, alert, and mature.

Ladybug felt different, so she shed anything that left her feeling as if these years hadn't matured her into a woman that sometimes felt different than when she'd began. She was not the same Ladybug, even though she went home to the same family, and had the same name. She was older, more mature, more trained from personal experience, and more willing to fight it through. She was not a quitter, and refused to even consider becoming one ever again. Her appearance needed to change and grow with her. She couldn't look fourteen forever or be caught up in some still space, ungrowing, unchanging.

Change was necessary, and she now stood as a stronger Ladybug, feeling her old self melt away behind the newer, stronger version of herself. She'd grown up and changed.

* * *

Tall, skinny jeans climbed up her legs, pink, and off to the side was the etching of Cherry Blossoms curling by her ankles and soaring to almost her knees. Pink and vivid, a brighter, reinforced by dark edges pink that climbed without fail up both her legs. It curled around in a full half circle on both sides. Her white, ruffled skirt hit the top of the trees from sight.

Her T-Shirt was a shade lighter in pink with petals that formed a delicate heart, highlighting how warm and loving her actual heart was. It was steady without fail, and overtop, she wore a darker jacket, shining with faux leather, and glimmering with life. It was a nearly solid black with just a hint of color whenever she stepped into the right kind of room.

Her flats even got an upgrade, as her feet had gotten a little larger over the years, and now she wore solid pink flats with just the curling of an 'M' over the top of them, flowing as if decorated by vines or branches swirling into the looping letter.

Marinette felt beautiful, and she couldn't resist a happy smile even as she entered class again, and though this was normal now, she never stopped feeling that hint of a confidence boost to wearing these clothes. She felt older, more mature, and she thrilled, even though it might seem normal for her to be class president for at least three years in a row now.


	20. Dressed Up

It swirled delicately around her ankles, full of life and color. When it hit the light, it came to light like the galaxy, swirling around her. It made her feel larger than life, lit up with a kind of confidence that sometimes it seemed only that dressing up or becoming Ladybug revealed to her.

She smiled, as she stepped closer, soft fabric easily yielding to her steps, hinting at the black flats that she wore underneath, just barely not visible, fluttering through with just a hint of attention. Marinette sometimes wished that she had heels to wear, but she knew her own sense of balance perhaps better than anyone else did.

As she moved now, you could nearly mistake her for a model or a graceful dancer; her steps were balanced and light, and somehow she felt like she was floating. Her lips just a hint of a darker red and caught up in a wide smile, joyous to even be invited, let alone be here, and feel that pinprick of pride in her heart at her design.

Marinette felt alive and confident and excited to just be here and to be wearing one of her latest designs. She felt that kind of joy that never really felt drained for a while.

Her hair fell down her back in beautiful 'galaxy' swirls, delicate, recently curved and curled, recently let loose to fall down her back almost entirely freely. It looked so soft to the touch that you almost wanted to reach out and run your fingers through the curls that she'd worked so hard on that looked so natural.

Marinette easily slipped into the crowd, still beautiful enough to stand out, and she tried her best to stifle her surprise when Adrien asked her to dance. Somehow, the air of the party felt so full of joy, a special kind of blend that made anything seem possible and much more magical.

She could never imagine complaining about a single moment of this night.

* * *

The black dress hugs her curves, pulling the beautifully toned and yet almost soft curves into focus. Pulling close to almost put you in a trance as you followed them like little waterfalls and sparks of beauty. Her necklace glimmered gold and silver, petals fluttering despite how lifeless metal can appear, delicately interwoven into an almost brilliant life.

She wore a very small set of black heels, so small that the heel was nearly unnoticeable, but she'd been practicing walking in them for a while now, and they followed and hugged her feet closely. Her dress was simple, but enhanced by how she'd accessorized. Marinette smiled as she moved steadily, pushing forward without even a hint of a stumble yet, though she knew if she paused to think about her feet too long, she'd inevitably stumble.

Marinette's smile could pull you in like the sun, and you'd forget even what you were doing before.

* * *

It's a risk that she sort of wanted to take with Cat Noir, not a reveal as a homemade mask held her face close, and she knew that she'd been careful, doublechecking with Tikki in advance too. She just wanted to have a night not filled with stress or patrols or an Akuma rushing by to catch. She'd carefully applied makeup before she left, having Tikki doublecheck the bow that she'd tied behind her. Marinette couldn't quite see it, and she did not want to have messed it up.

Her ballgown fell down over her legs, hiding them from view within the beautiful black spots and scarlet dress. She'd felt stunning, pouring over the design for months out of curiosity, and now, today that curiosity found a physical form in genuine excitement.

Sbe'd barely transformed, when she'd paused to consider just where they'd go for a moment away from it all. Being a teenager, a superhero, and a student was like asking for heaps and heaps of stress put on your shoulders. She just couldn't wait for the moment where the stress could fizzle and fade for even just a second.

Ladybug didn't love stress just as everyone else didn't love it either. She let a smile surface to her lips though, anyway. Tonight would be a step back from worries, an escape within an escape, and somehow more than one as well. She smiled as she readjusted her hair, making sure that it wasn't lopsided as she left her room, left her balcony, and as she headed out to join her partner on a patrol that would turn into something other than a patrol.

* * *

"Hey, Kitty?" Ladybug called out, knowing that while he was more than likely the one to offer momentary distractions from stress, she was rarely ever the one to do so, "Do you mind if we take a break for a moment?"

He blinked and as he looked over with surprise in his eyes, she smiled.

"Race you to the top of the Eiffel Tower?" And she was off, letting him follow closely behind her, and before she knew it, they were both towards the very top of the Eiffel Tower, and mostly out of sight from down below.

"What's the matter, M'Lady?" Cat Noir asked her, and within the joy that racing through Paris always evoked, there was worry in his eyes.

"It's been a tough week." There'd been four Akumas, a bunch of tests, a big project, and a fashion competition that she'd been vowing to participate in in a while, and while most of this was started before the due dates, it had all happened so quick.

"It has been." Cat Noir agreed, and she wondered for a moment if his week had been as bad as hers.

"So I thought that we'd have somewhat of a break, and I won't reveal my identity to you, don't worry about what I do next." Ladybug tried to reassure him as she worked up the nerves and courage to detransform in front of her partner, even knowing that she had a mask on underneath and that Tikki had reassured her before that it would be fine when they'd began discussing it.

"Okay...?" He whispered, and she smiled, pushing all of her nerves in a glove department somewhere as she finally willed herself through with this.

"Tikki, Spots Off." Ladybug faded to a masked Marinette in her ballgown.

"M-M'Ladybug?" It came out as some awkward, almost squeak, and she smiled up at her partner.

"I'm still masked, Kitty. You can look now." Ladybug was quick to assure him, and when his green, cat eyes finally looked over at her, they widened.

"Wow, Ladybug, you look..." His voice cut itself off, and somehow within the stunned gasp of noise that was his voice as he spoke, Marinette realized a compliment.

"Thank you." Ladybug smiled, and swirled her dress delicately around her ankles. Her scarlet red ballgown with its black spots made it all the way to her ankles, concealing her legs, and around her waist, it pulled closer to be tied behind her in a big, gorgeous bow.

Cat Noir couldn't seem to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

"Do you want to dance?" She held out her gloved hand, smiling at his stunned bewilderment as his green eyes met her hand. Marinette wasn't sure quite what part of her outfit captured all of his attention or whether it was something in the sentiment and what this kind of meant. Her black spotted red mask was trimmed with black lace, looking delicate and free flowing.

"Uhh... Sure." He practically swallowed the words with how difficult it seemed that they were for him to get out of his lips, but he reached out and accepted her gloved hands in his and pulled her close enough to dance with her.

Somehow the cool night air almost seemed warm in their sanctuary together, to dance together, was almost a way to slip out of the rest of the world for a few stolen moments turned into what easily could have been hours together, just dancing and away from it all, away from the stresses that kept them up at night, away from any potential Akuma, and away from the homework that always felt like it dug holes into their plans.


	21. Tactician

It felt cool as ice as she chilled her focus to zero in on whatever she could find that would work together; she bit her lip whenever her concentration seemed to be slipping, and she readjusted herself to prepare for whatever she could spot, whatever she'd need to use coupled with her Lucky Charm.

The coffee cup in her hands felt cold, since there was nothing in it, and the night air seemed to chill it. She readjusted her grip, trying to ease her fingers into a lighter grip to avoid the chill that left her longing to just set it down. It shouldn't be that cold, but the weather felt like Fall just turning to Winter, cold, almost bitterly so, and yet not ferocious, not snowing, or even super close to it, but that bite and chill was definitely in the air already.

She frowned before she caught sight of a loose pulley that sort of sagged and fell, and she could already imagine just what she could do. Ladybug could loop the loose pulley through the handle of the coffee cup, which would gratefully get it out of her hands. She could twist the working ones that fit through the rest of the system to push the loose one forward and let it bust the lights above shrouding the room in darkness that is not easy to restore back to light.

Ladybug would have to rely on Cat Noir's night vision, and she was sure that he'd help guide her as they finished up with the light hungry Akuma that they were facing. She felt that residing ache in her shoulders that she was quick to try to erase with a fluid stretch that she'd make look just like the start of her moving. Ladybug was anything but shaky on her feet.

"Cat Noir, prepare to help us see in the dark." She whispered, letting him know that soon the lights would be no more as she moved into action flipping past the remainder of fallen objects that had promptly fallen when the 'ElectroMan' had arrived in the building, zipping through the room.

Her gloved hands reached steadily for the leather of the pulley, and she held it tightly in her hands as she quickly tied it through the mug and moved to start the pulley system, feeling that sort of anticipation of just how her Lucky Charm would be used begin in her stomach and watching as it fully listened to her command, and she even beamed as the ElectroMan fell from the lights and the room was cascaded in darkness beyond the quickly fading white of his suit.

She felt one clawed hand slip into hers, and she knew that she was safe, and that it was time to listen to her partner, who would guide her steps the rest of the way.

* * *

Marinette couldn't help her frown as she stared at remained of their rather fractured project. She and Adrien had both been missing the assigned times that they agreed upon for finishing it up, and Rena Rouge and Carapace had been needed to deal with a couple more Akumas lately. She sighed as she peeked over at her friends that looked just as exhausted and worn as she did.

There had to be something! She paused and reread over the guidelines of their particular project, and immediately, she was able to start piecing through what would be the best option. "Adrien, you work on the math. Alya, you do the design of the presentation, and Nino, you make sure that we all have scripts to say for the project." It would make it flow easier, and it would give Nino a productive means to participate. "I'll finish up the what all is left." It left her with a varied and vast set of work before her, but they needed it done in two days, and Hawkmoth had been relentless.

She wasn't sure why Adrien had been having difficulty making it to their project days, but she knew that they needed to work out all the other odds and ends to make this flow and make it look as if they'd been working on it since the get go especially since their first days of 'working' on it were consumed with chatter and hanging out. It had given them more of a chance to spend time together as a full group of four.

Admittingly, she nearly regretted that as she fumbled through citing, reading a few more sources, and wondered if the day could go any slower. It could, but she didn't want to worry about that as she tried to tie up the loose odds and ends and debate with Alya over which design for each slide looked better and sometimes found herself proofreading everyone else's work, just in case, and partly, because they asked her to.

The next four hours felt like an eternity, but Marinette was grateful that their project was nearly done and would only need finishing touches tomorrow when they'd meet up to finish it up and find that it only took fifteen minutes to make it flow a little better and look even better as well.

* * *

She wasn't a class president to support slacking off or as some weird way to feel like Ladybug outside of the suit and mask. It meant that she had to compose plans, propose ideas, and try to work to get more of what the students wanted in a way that their school would invest in.

It sometimes meant meetings, but it mainly meant research, interviews, writing explanations to why they want whatever it is and trying to find a way that's cost effective too. Most ideas are usually turned down, but every now and again, she made headway. Whether she did or not, she had to go through the process, reread her work, double and often triple check her sources, and sometimes launch a second or third interview depending on how long this whole process took to insure that they all still wanted it.

It was exhausting, and a lot of work, but Marinette refused to back off from the project at large. There was always so much that could be done, and no matter how ideal a classroom was, it could always be better. It was a motto that she'd come to live by as Class President as she'd realized that each and every student wanted something different, one thing improved, another discarded, and maybe this idea would be better.

Sometimes Marinette wondered why anyone would volunteer and compete for this job. It was exhausting and stressful, but then she saw everyone's excitement when something was passed and there had been a change, hopefully an improvement and something for the much better. Marinette hated to see a wonderful idea become a less than wonderful result. It was disheartening, and often meant that they were back to the drawing board trying to figure things out again, but she knew that as long as she followed the right amount of steps, worked hard on each one, and did her best that things tended to be a little more successful whether they loved the execution of the idea or not.


	22. Rare Pair

Somehow, it felt almost quiet and perfectly at peace as they walked hand in hand into the restaurant, still talking quietly among themselves about the concet that they'd saw the other day. It had been loud and _different _than Marinette perhaps was used to, but the music had been growing on her immensely. Besides, she'd come to know most of the songs from hearing her boyfriend sing them to her lately, over listening to the three _latest _albums and Ivan's favorite songs together. She'd almost mastered singing them in her sleep though her voice never could dig down so deep or go quite as loud as Ivan's could.

She was beyond impressed by how charming and handsome his singing was, the more that she came to know of this type of music, and the more that she heard of it. It hadn't taken too long for Marinette to fall in love with the songs, to learn their lyrics both to sing along and to rediscover just what was great about the songs, and once she knew the words, they somehow grew about ten times better.

Marinette absentmindly traced circles on her boyfriend's palm with a distracted finger as they waited to be seated. It was often surreal to take a step back and realize just how they'd gotten here, just the kind of sparks that led them to slowly falling in love with each other. She squeezed his hand and relaxed against Ivan's side, humming to some off beat rendition of one of their favorite songs together.

Eventually, the hostess did lead them to a seat and offer them menus, and Marinette found something in herself relaxing just by being by her boyfriend's side. It had been a relatively soothing week, and while Hawkmoth had been absent, Marinette got more time with her boyfriend to go to that concert, to eat out tonight, to just be by the other's side and relax away from the stresses of the world.

* * *

Ivan gingerly glanced over towards her, and this always felt like the conversation had shifted, that something more needed to be said that neither of them had the words for, and Marinette bit her lip to avoid thinking over this too much, to avoid falling into the easy trap of nerves.

"I'm glad that Hawkmoth's been busy doing whatever he does as a civilian." Marinette smiled, and there was something soft and sweet about it that grew, "It gave us more time together." There were no impending homework assignments hanging over their heads, and during the busy weeks anyway, they'd began studying together and answering the other's questions over a particular problem and helping each other out until that style of problem became much simpler for the both of them. Marinette loved the simple simplicity of it, and how they managed to find time together even when it seemed near impossible.

When the study sessions were at Marinette's house, her parents were eager to supply snacks and ask Ivan questions, and Marinette could feel her parents' approval, even though Ivan at first seemed like someone different than they'd expected their daughter to date, though over time why she regularly fell more in love with became apparent, and they no longer held any doubt in their hearts as to why their daughter had agreed to date him.

"Yeah," Ivan paused as he considered his words, and Marinette felt a twinge of pain; Hawkmoth was one of the worst topics ever with anyone, even Alya didn't enjoy hearing about him all that much, "Akumas are the worst."  
It brought to mind Stoneheart, and she winced at the memory, reaching out. Misunderstandings were always difficult especially when there wasn't enough of a pause to figure out what the truth of the matter was. She refused to let herself do that to her boyfriend, though she knew that she was human too, and sometimes she failed at being understanding and listening.

"They are." Marinette murmured, beside herself, as she tried to come up with something to say, some word to alleviate the sudden pain of the moment. No words came, so she did what she felt like she was better at. She traced nameless shapes at first on his hand after she'd reached out for it again, and then as inspiration struck, she traced less meaningless shapes and more genuine, heartfelt words.

'I love you,' She traced over his hand, skimming his knuckles, and even running over the callouses on his hands. 'I'm sorry.' She twirled her finger over his palm, finding all the right spaces as she confessed her sincere apology. 'You're incredible.' She traced from his wrist up part of his arm, smiling as his own smile though wobbly at first reformed on his face.

"I love you." His words made her hand pause, and she felt her face turn red. It still felt so new even though she'd written on his hand with only a finger those very words just a few moments ago.

"I love you too." Marinette paused to scoot just a bit closer, and she tried to dwell within the happier warmth of the air and not the once slightly chilled air of pain and a sharp focus on the less positive things of life.

Marinette stayed close, silently vowing to not be quite so careless with her words again when she finds herself struggling to find something to say.


	23. Family

Family more than anything was a home to come back to, a safe haven away from the stresses and pains of the world. Family was stepping back home through a phone call or a message, and certainly, it was this.

She was too short to see the celebration, to see the fun crowds, to see the parade, and so her dad pulled her up onto his shoulders, and suddenly the view became impressive for her five year old eyes as she squirmed in an attempt to see in every direction easily.

Marinette can barely breathe past the excitement that bubbles up in her throat and leaves in breathless giggles. Just, wow. It's too much to not be impressive as she's still young enough to be attentive to the things that others forget to notice, forget to give their undivided attention to, and she finds the excitement in the air just as fascinating as what she sees.

She curls up against her father's neck and wonders if there could be anything more exciting than right now.

* * *

Marinette's tired, schoolbooks scattered just far enough down her bed to fall off, and she wonders if math was meant to make someone stay up to two AM, because it was already eleven, and she was exhausted. The eleven year old half scrambles underneath the covers, worried that she'd somehow get into trouble even as her mother comes to pick up the books and tuck her into bed gingerly. Sabine's worried frown was somehow lost and unseen by her daughter as she just knew that the homework wasn't complete, but she also knew just how exhausted and tired her daughter likely felt.

A lesson would be learned someday from this, but for now, she'd let her get her rest, because a growing young lady needs all the rest that she can get in the quiet hours of night. Sabine would just make a note to herself to stay upstairs a little more to help her daughter out with homework later and to help her fight against distractions. Anyone can do it, whether they realize it or not.

Sabine whispers a soft 'I love you' into her daughter's hair before she turns to leave the room, just glad that her daughter was getting some sleep, and that mistakes almost always led to new lessons and growing stronger and better as a person.

* * *

Marinette knows family to be there to listen when her bad day feels way more than bad, and even when she has exciting stories to share. She knows to expect them when she comes home with bad grades as well as good ones. She knows their disappointment, and she knows their pride.

It's easy to get caught up away from them, but it's so much easier to sink into the lovely moments with them. She can't contain her smile on tired movie nights when they almost all fall asleep on the couch or when she goes against her dad in Ultimate Mecha Strike and amid the fun, she wins. Marinette loves the tasty dinners and even loves the meals where things don't always turn out delicious. She loves the mornings with fresh bread, and the days that she barely has time to stop for even a second.

Marinette loves this. She loves her family, loves how they are there for her, how they support her, and how they manage to encourage her to grow always. She doubts that she could be anything like she is today without their help and support, and she smiles out of a deep love for them. Her maman and papa get her through the difficult moments, are disappointed when she doesn't do her best, and help her to see how things truly are. They comfort her when she'd rather just cry and cry and cry, and they make her smile and laugh whenever she feels like she needs one or even on the days that couldn't be more joyous if they tried.

Marinette knows her family, and she knows their joy and their compassion and their pain and the funny moments and the not so funny moments and the heartbreaking moments and the moments that make them all feel as human as they are. She knows the pain and suffering of life, but she also knows the sheer joy of it. She can't help it that when she thinks of her family however, she smiles, and it blooms like a flower on her face.

Her family is so warm and loving, and she depends on them as they always have helped her get through the scary moments and the difficult ones and the times when she feels like she's too tired to see a thing. Marinette loves them so, so much.


	24. Girl Squad

Some days felt like better days to take a step back from it all and just be among the girls. Somehow, it felt almost surreal to slip into nearly a full class slumber party, to discuss dating and boys and yet somehow discuss other stuff too. Advice for designs were passed around. "Could you... try this?" It was all geared on developing her sense of design better. They made their rendition of runways, and somewhere along the way, cuddling felt like a requirement and a neccesity as eyes grew bleary and tired.

There were often games of Truth Or Dare on lazy weekends, experimenting with new art styles together. Juleka could write amazing poetry and even her prose was fantastic, Alix's designs were phenomenal, Marinette designed new styles and clothes, Alya could spin an exciting story like you couldn't believe, Mylene could act out a great scene, and Rose was pretty good at writing rock lyrics. There was something that everyone could supply, and somehow that just made the creativity circle even better.

Marinette tried to stretch the tired out of her ankles and weary toes. Just nights could drag on forever and days were even worse. She curled up, savoring the sweet warmth of Rose's bed as her tired mind barely blinked into focus at the other girls.

"Okay, okay. It's bed time." Alya bit back a laugh, and soon, it felt like they all were trying to find a place on the bed rather than head for the air mattress next to it or the few sleeping bags scattered around the room. It was late, and they still didn't mind sleepovers that included huddling close to dwell in the safety and security of closeness, comfort, and warmth. It would be a few years yet, until it somehow seemed like society got the upper hand against innocence, and life became obsessed with growing up.

* * *

Ladybug had no idea when it had become so comfortable to just hang out with Queen Bee and Rena Rouge together. It was easy to race through the rooftops of Paris toward some random spot or somehow find a place to sit down and talk over the thngs that they were still careful with sharing, relatively. There were things that Rena couldn't share with Queen Bee, but could with Ladybug. Queen Bee had no such reserve, but Ladybug had all of the reserve that she could balance.

There was only so much that she could tell them, when she knew both their identities, and they didn't know hers. Sometimes that made temptation prickle at the back corners of her mind.

"Sometimes, I think those dating movies and all don't understand a thing or two about actually dating someone." Rena sighed, stretching out lazily over Ladybug's lap, "They conviently overlook the real struggles that we go through. How many times do we have to debate where to go on a date before we just hang out and play the same old video games or watch the same old cheesy movies that really could have been written better?" Rena Rouge griped, letting her frustration show, "And then, Akumas show up, and we can't help but wonder if we'll need to get involved and have to go fight or if I can follow the Akuma from a distance, and suddenly dates are ruined. Is this what having a career will be like?"

Queen Bee rolled her eyes, "Consider this: your best friend since childhood remains mostly oblivious, and you don't know how to confess like a normal, sane person, and somehow you're convinced that he likes someone much better than you." She sighed, "I'm not terrible. Besides, if I were him, having been my friend for ages, growing up together, and being close enough to share the kinds of things that you are too scared to tell most friends, I'd date me." Her voice grew quiet and soft, and suddenly, Ladybug felt the urge to comfort her.

She tried not to tell Chloe or Queen Bee rather that they liked the same guy. She was as supportive as she could be as she hid this fact. Ladybug almost wanted this same level of closeness with Chloe as sometimes it felt awkward to not have it within both sides of the masks when she knew her identity. With Rena, thankfully that was less of a concern and more of something relatively equal.

"Just for once?" Chloe sighed, letting it fall out in almost a whine as she scooted closer, "You know, it's nice that the LadyBlogger doesn't see us and think something strange." Queen Bee didn't seem all that worried beyond that fact.

"She's our age. She'd probably understand." Marinette was quick to soothe with a quicker glance to Rena. The Fox Miraculous holder bit back a frown though her worn and almost angry eyes would give her away without even the frown to go off of.

"So the guy I like still hasn't noticed me either." Ladybug changed the topic, keeping it from derailing down the cliff of insecurities and problems that any conversations that branched too much on the bitter side of secret identities led to.

"Ahh..." Queen Bee sighed, "I don't know how." She motioned over towards her, and Ladybug half-pretended not to notice, while it was heartwarming and encouraging she knew that that was not the kind of attention that Marinette got anyway, just Ladybug.

"You're the best Ladybug. Just give it some time." Rena reassured her with a bright smile, and the chatter turned to less pressing issues and much less romance as they rambled about the random things of each day, minus anything identity revealing, that was the main characteristic of most of their conversations anyway. Major issues and thoughts were dealt with right away to fade to something much easier to rest in and enjoy. Spending time with her female friends often was the kind of encouragement and assurance that she often forgot she needed.


	25. Fashion Design

It always starts with an idea, a hint of inspiration turned to flowing rivers of material, of something truly beautiful captured first on a page and then on a mannequin to get its final home on someone and often in a closet or a dresser. It's often times a relatively slow process; a designer like any artist has to know that the first stroke of a line on the page is not the end of it. It's not instantaneous, and it takes longer than five minutes to do.

Even when she's exhausted and tired and wondering whether there is a soft and fluffy bed to collapse into or when she feels like homework killed all her brain cells or when she feels like that Akuma really didn't know when to quit avoiding defeat; her muscles could ache and ache and ache. Even when all of this is her reality or some of this, she still is drawn to picking up a pencil whether it's early in the morning or late at night or somewhere in the middle. She'll start a design or work on an old one, and sometimes she just craves the feeling of fabric in her hands, so she'll reach for her recently polished designs and try her hand out at turning one into something that almost feels like a dream created before her eyes.

The hardest and longest projects take months, though they used to take years and were often abandoned to be incomplete years ago, when she was new and wasn't quite as aware of the flow of design or the burst of steady creativity. She had many designs left in various stages of complete from years ago: a T-Shirt missing the rest of its unsewed companions that are still down in a notebook somewhere, a half-sewed pair of jeans that she'll likely never go back to, but keeps because just maybe one day inspiration and motivation will join, and she'll complete it, old sketches abandoned, some finished and waiting to be transformed from material to finished clothing, some only half sketched, almost forever abandoned to the passage of time. Creativity wasn't without its casualties, the rudimentary designs and starts that helped you figure out what you liked and what you didn't like, though that always changed and developed over time, as you grew in creativity, in your chosen field(s). She doesn't doubt that there are many almost treasures waiting in notebooks or scrap fabric in her closet or half-finished designs that many would think were clothes just hanging by a thread.

It took years to finally create a full outfit and longer than that to create better ones. Evenings after class were often spent sketching or sewing or fully creating a project that had been testing her for months or weeks or days, and even now her best and favorite days included designing. She dreaded the days that she walked around sluggishly, less fell of that burst of cheer that kept her going, as designing always eased some sort of weight off her shoulders and left her happy.

* * *

Marinette paused as she tried to run her fingers through the fabric of the store, eyeing pretty designs and testing how they felt and what they were. She sighed as she shook off random daydreams still perusing the aisle, knowing that all she had was a little money from a contest that she won two months ago, most of it spent, and the money that she'd be saving up from working at the bakery. She felt torn as a pensive frown appeared over her face.

These decisions impacted the designs that she could fully realize that would go from sketches in her notebooks to fully finished outfits. She could not afford to guess wrong and be set back by a few more months with just lukewarm designs in the boiling pot of creativity. "Is there anything that you see?" She looked up at the question with a half dazed smile, still mostly lost in the inward debate over fabric.

"Not yet, thank you." She tells the worker, feeling every urge in her to leave this spot, try elsewhere. This store always got quality fabric at a price that she could afford with what meager money she had. She left for a different aisle, half-fighting off muttering underneath her breath. There was so much to consider, and yet she knew that if she picked wrong, it would be another two months plus before she finally got different fabric. She sighed. It was hard to pick when you felt that bit of shaking pot pressure beneath her chest that raced within every beat of her heart.

Nothing stuck out to her, like it had two months ago, and she found herself tracing idle trails through the store, examining interesting fabric, and half tempted to buy plain fabric, because she could always work something out with it. It just didn't feel right either, and so she sat down, pulling out her notebook, flipping through to analyze what she'd written by each design and going back over the memory of how it appeared in her mind. Immediately, two completely different types of fabric raced into her mind, but she could barely afford either and definitely not both.

Marinette flipped slowly, waiting for a series of designs to jump out at her, waiting for something to leave her inspired and in awe, finally after easily fifteen minutes of sitting on the floor, flipping through sketch after sketch, slowly, she found a particular type of fabric much more popular in her designs. Exhausted, she gets up, confident in her choice, and even more thrilled when she realizes that this week, it is on sale.

She'd gotten through another trip to the fabric store in one piece, and positive that this could very well be the type of fabric that she needed. She doublechecked the feel of it, moving it every which way in the light to doublecheck the shade and hue of it. FInally, with a bright smile, Marinette set off for the counter, confident in her step.


	26. Jagged Stone

There was something really cool about designing for a world famous rock star that you really looked up to. Not just anyone could go around saying that they had designed stuff for Jagged Stone, and let alone, claim that they've been able to handle the stress of doing so. No one knows the nerves involved, the weird play that they put on in your belly, when you stumble through design after design, seeking something grander than you feel capable of. She'd found it easier when it was just a simple task, despite how the nerves had hit her hard later on, but the album cover had definitely filled her with quaking nerves right away.

Designing is her strong suit, her escape-not-quite-an-escape, and she doesn't doubt that there is some part of her that's probably pretty good at it, though she'd argue with you that she knows of many better designers than her. She can think of more than a few off the top of her head, that's designs were so innovative and creative and sort of cool, designs that were not poorly executed or rather too bizarre to wear. There's a balance between bizarre and interesting, and while Marinette could understand getting caught up with the more experimental designers that went beyond the realms of what people would actually probably wear somewhere. She could find inspiration from their often irregular edges, but that simply wasn't the kind of designer that she set out to be.

Either way, Jagged Stone liked her designs enough for her to do more than two designs for him, and in her own little way and through the odd friendship that formed, she was well on her way to becoming famous through him, which still didn't feel real. She shook her head, smiling as she reached out for her phone to play one of her favorite songs from his latest albums. She couldn't wait to savor and listen to more as she relaxed and focused on the music that lit up a kind of excitement in her veins, and sometimes even led her to sketch new designs that came to mind.

* * *

Marinette can barely believe that she's here, in a Jagged Stone concert once again, that her veins are bouncing along with the music, and something in her shifts, because of the moment. She can't help just how the excited air makes her dance along with the others, and it feels as if they could almost be one and the same, that they are all the same person, jumping and dancing to the strum of the guitar, and any disunity is just from the body's excitement together.

Something's in the air, something exciting and almost tangible, a kind of thrill and fun that only concerts seemed to produce as the people closest to the stage reached out for him. Admiring fans look on at the one that helped them through dark nights without quite knowing it, that helped them drown out the noise of arguments that they couldn't run from, and made boring Saturdays into dance parties. There's something special about the connection that keeps everyone enthralled with the man on the stage, keeps them enthralled with the words that they sing along to, and keeps them enthralled enough to dance even if off rhythm, off beat. Something sizzles akin to family in the air, and Marinette can barely breathe past the joy.

No matter how much she comes to know Jagged Stone, she can't imagine not being enthralled at one of his concerts, like a longterm fan seeing him live for the first time ever. It's a kind of feeling that will resonate as joy for the rest of the night and won't easily fade. It's stunning to know that she's this close to a rock star, able to see him perform, able to move as one with the rest of the audience, just as mesmerized by seeing someone that the songs make into a friend, someone to listen to, to fall in love with, to bring joy in darkness or stillness and to bring light where it is usually stifled.

Marinette doesn't know quite when the lyrics end, and when the audience just shouts in excitement, too fueled up on energy to ever slow down, and she can't help her giddy smile as her legs sway from standing and dancing so long and when her balance threatens to reach its limits. She doesn't sit, too caught up with the rock star on stage that continues to be her inspiration.

* * *

Marinette feels exhaustion sink in as she collapses in a seat not far from where Jagged Stone is practicing in the quiet stillness of Penny Rolling just listening to him beside her, standing up, tall and absorbed. There's something tangible to them working together, like a well blossomed friendship, because Marinette does not want to wonder if Jagged and Penny are dating, and if so, for how long, and why does no one know it yet. It's easy to wonder those kinds of things, but they disrupt the quiet and the chill of the air that blends with the atmosphere in a beautiful away of emotion.

Marinette feels some quiet calm break as Jagged stops playing and reaches down to pet Fang, as eager to be by his owner's side. She smiles, letting it flow half-dazed from pure awe and the quiet atmosphere that delicately interwove the room just moments ago. There's something so freeing about seeing a famous rock star just hang out with his pet.

"So how was it?" And something in Jagged Stone's frown, clues Marinette in that he didn't liket he song as much as he first thought he did.

"It was good, but it can be better." Penny asserts, and something in how soft her voice is, though it flips to a gentle sterness that Marinette wasn't expecting. This was familiar. It felt like some step-by-step routine for when Jagged didn't like his songs and wanted to get better. It wasn't harsh, but learned. It wasn't cruel, but it masked some of Penny's awe.

Marinette briefly wondered if that was what it was like to be in love with a creative minded person, though she wouldn't say that her feelings for a model in her life, were quite unlike Penny's reaction to Jagged. There was a level of awe and mystique there that Marinette could not shake and that no matter how well she came to know Adrien, it still remained.

"I thought so." Jagged Stone agreed easily enough, and Marinette almost felt like she was intruding on some intimate moment, emotionally close, familiar, and sure between Jagged and Penny. She almost wants to get up and leave and let them talk by themselves. It feels more right, but she can't quite convince her legs to let her up and take her out of the room to let the conversation return to the privacy it was likely used to. "How about this?" He strums a few notes, closing his eyes and getting used to the tune that he was playing before he sang the words just a bit differently.

Somehow it was more awe inspiring and left the room quieter. Marinette has no idea how he does it, how he continually inspires others, or how he is so talented. Penny steps forward though to give him advice, and somehow Marinette knows that together, they grow. Jagged Stone listens to Penny so attentively that Marinette once again wants to leave the room and so climbs on to legs that have gone shaky from sitting so long in that seat.

"Oh, you don't have to leave, do you?" Penny asks, and it relieves Marinette from the burden of cutting any close, one to another conversation short. She feels both of them glance to her in curiosity.

"I don't have to go yet." She sits back down and wonders if one day she'll be as quietly happy as they are, or if one day, an apprentice or someone will sit before her and wonder. She doubts it, in the way that one doesn't find all of the awe inspiring gifts in them to be awe inspiring. Marinette stays though, and somehow she's reminded how this friendship formed over designing, even at one point allowed baking in, and now, the music flowed so easily and well between them. She still can scarcely believe that one of the artists that she admired most in the world let her sit in the studio and watch him practice, invited her to concerts, and had her design anything from sunglasses to merchandise to albums to outfits. It still often felt surreal, even as she called him, 'friend.'


	27. Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

These words are supposed to reveal some major recollection of mine, something grand and wonderful and magical. I won't talk about Ladybug today or Tikki or how I almost, sort of asked out Adrien, because really, that is not what today's about.

It's about my family and the people that I sometimes forget to sit down and appreciate. You know, Alya, today, she told me that she'd die for me. We were discussing history and Joan of Arc, because she willingly died for what she believed in and wasn't a quitter. Alya told me that sometimes it's easier to say things or to write them than to live by them, but she said that even if it 'killed' her or left her scared to death, she'd take a bullet for me. She made sure to let me know, and somehow, I think I believe her. She was so sincere and earnest, and sometimes I forget just how much she means to me. I'd take a bullet for her too, even without my magical suit to protect me. We've only known each other for about a year, but she's my best friend, and already, she gets me through my own share of bad times and problems and embarrassing conversations. Alya's always supported me in her own special way, and I think that that's important.

For Nino, we've known each other for years, but most of them, we hadn't talked. Now, it's hard to imagine not sharing music back and forth and discussing what video games we should play next time. Adrien's my partner, of course, and though we almost always beat Nino and Alya, there's something special about the way the four of us can just laugh together, and no victory comes with arrogance, and no defeat comes with anger or jealousy. We just sort of click, and I think the four of us were destined to be friends sometimes, because it just sort of works.

And Maman and Papa, they, they always love me, and sometimes unconditional love is all that it takes to get through a bad patch. I can't imagine the words of gratitude even leaving my lips with the sincerity that I mean them, but Maman and Papa, they are incredible. They will tell me when I do wrong, and of course, sometimes I'm super embarrassed by that, and sometimes, I'm super angry by it, like a switch is flipped. I don't think I want to admit to them, at all, that somehow that's just what I needed. I need that, and I'll try to live by it one day.

About Adrien, because I haven't mentioned him much, and I probably should. He's a great friend, and I think that I've settled with that for now. I don't feel a need to push, and I trust that if we're meant to be, something will happen either by me or Adrien or the mood will feel right. I know that life doesn't always work like movies, and I don't expect it to, but he's fun to play games with. I think that the more that I come to know him, hear a dreaded pun, and get to laugh together and sometimes cry together, it's shaping our friendship and how I view him. It makes it easier, you know? I'm still really glad that I met him.

And, Alix! Have I ever mentioned her before? She can make us laugh, even though she says that she isn't that great at it. She somehow just seems to say things well, in a way that is so genuine; it's not like any writers or anything, but it's her. She's not a writer, anyway. You should see her street art, sometimes she calls it rebellion against her 'artsy,' 'history obsessed' family, but I know, and I'm pretty sure that most people know that she genuinely likes it, not as an act of rebellion, but as something that she's uniquely passionate about. I can't tell you how she found that medium or if it started that way, but her work is incredible and amazing. Honestly, she's so fun to hang around too.

Oh, and Marc. He's new to the group of us, but his writing is so incredibly real and touching. Sometimes I feel like he's nearly captured just what it's like to be Ladybug. It's only nearly, because he isn't her, but it's so close, that it's almost scary. He's such an amazing writer, and I still can't believe that I met someone like him. He's going to be famous one day, I just know it!

Nathamael too. His drawings are great, and I'm transported to a new world by them all the time. Despite how long we've known each other, it's still taken him a while to open up, though it took me a while too. I'm just so stunned, that somehow I met such talented and incredible people and that I'm allowed to call them friends!

Rose is probably the kindest, sweetest person in the world! She knows just what to do to comfort you and just what to say, it seems like. Have you read her rock music? I'm still stunned by it, and she's jsut such an inspiring person. If I could be like her as Ladybug one day, I'm positive that it would just grow happier and happier. I'm me though. Rose is so kindhearted and sincere; I think that she'll be a great Miraculous holder one day, but I worry about what the stress would do to her.

Juleka somehow reminds me of a famous poet sometimes, maybe Edgar Allen Poe, but I'm not sure. I hope her life never gets that tragic and sad. She's just great at drawing out emotion even with so few words. I'm constantly stunned by her talent, and have you seen the makeup that she's done and the pictures that she's taken? She seems much happier since we broke her picture curse. I'm so happy for her, hopefully, it won't come back around to her. She's such an incredible friend; I'd hate to see her that sad again.

Mylene is just as great at acting as her dad! I can tell you so. I've seen her act, though she doesn't like acting in anything spooky; I don't blame her. Sometimes, being Ladybug leads to me encountering too many spooky and scary moments, that I don't like them so much outside of it. Mylene though has the voice and expressions for acting, though I know that she'll be even better before we know it! Stage fright is not an impossible foe for her to face, and she'll somehow just keep getting better. I have no idea how, because somehow she's already so amazing.

Oh, and I haven't mentioned Kim either. He is actually pretty good at sports, and I'm positive that he'll keep giving Alix a run for her money. I'm not super close to Kim, but I'm glad that he and Ondine are finally together, and from what friendship I do have with him, he definitely seems happier, and Ondine, too, I'm sure.

And, Ondine, I may have just met her, but she's such a wonderful person. She's determined and strong, and so brilliant and smart. She's such a great swimmer, and I really wish that I'd known of the game that they play way sooner. because it's so sweet and genuine, that I wish that I'd shared it with someone else before.

Max and Markov! Honestly, how is Max so smart! He created his own best friend who has a great personality, and I'm still stunned. I should hang out with them more, but they are definitely amazing. Just, it's unreal. Either way, maybe I should ask Max for help studying, because some of my latest tests weren't the best, but he, I'm sure that he can teach me something new and make it make sense. Plus, I do think that he's one of the best Ultimate Mecha Strike players that I've ever met. He isn't easy to beat, and I could challenge him again and again, and he'd still be difficult to beat and would probably beat me.

Ivan is such a great guy. You know, he and Mylene are perfect for each other? The song that he wrote her was so cute, and I really am amazed by just how in love they are for each other. Like Alya would die for me, Ivan and Mylene would die for each other and face the worst pains to get through it together. They are so in love, and one day, I hope that I can have a relationship like that.

Anyway, I hope that everything's going okay with Sabrina. I know we had a falling out from our almost friendship, but I still hope that she's happy. I hope that she and Chloe are the best of friends.

Ms. Bustier still manages to surprise and awe our class. She's the nicest teacher ever, and I'm positive that we learn way more from her class than any other! I still can't quite believe it, and I'm super glad that we got lucky enough to have her as our homeroom teacher. I hope that she teaches us next year too, but she'd have to go up with us in class somehow. Either way, she's my favorite teacher of all time!

Sincerely yours,

Marinette Dupain-Cheng


	28. Alternate Career

An old spark had died in her that day. She couldn't quite put a word on it, but seeing who Hawkmoth was, killed her dreams like a leaky pipe that could no longer fulfil the role it had been made for. With that spark fell billions of great ideas, lots of inspiration, old notebooks fell to the wayside, too sentimental to get rid of, and too much of a burden to ever be able to shake.

Her first thought as it almost always was, was of Adrien, a friend of hers that she couldn't bear to see suffer, and shortly after, that thought came to include Cat Noir, because his pain was Adrien's, and Adrien's pain was his pain, and she'd never known. Ladybug became just Marinette to him, and somehow every design seemed like a reminder of the emotional scars that Adrien carried and the baggage within those scars.

She hated the thought of torturing him further, and though he got his father's business in one fell swoop, he lost Nathalie who organized schedules and made everything flow, and he lost his father who ran the business and led the design team and made his own designs, and somehow in his spare time, he sent out Akumas instead of spending time with his son.

Ladybug saw and felt that same struggle within her: addiction to fashion, to design, to layer hours upon hours designing, and somehow forget the world. That desire sickened her like an old drug finally running free from the system and leaving someone limp in its place. Fashion design was her drug, or at least that's how she saw it now.

She shucked that identity like waste into the sewers, and she became the secretary to Adrien's business, personally fired anyone that he found it hard to fire, but felt like he must. Marinette was trusted to oversee hiring new designers, and so, she did. Always, she brought folders to her boss's desk and asked whether these designers were good for the company. She even interviewed them.

The joint pain that ran like daggers through Adrien's heart kept him from selling the business, and the heartache there kept her dreams from becoming too lofty. She arranged photoshoots for the days and the chances that Adrien would be willing to model, because he'd become the face of the company over the years and people expected to see him, sometimes. Those designs always sold the best. Against her better wishes, she'd even rushed Gabriel's last designs from being the boss to be made and to be shipped out. They were still good, and it had given her downtime to hunt for new designers from competitions and the like. Any Senior Member that stayed was given lead designing roles.

Marinette wouldn't touch a sewing needle with a ten foot pole. It made her sick, especially when on mornings that Adrien slept in or refused to leave his apartment that he was staying at now, she had to retrieve him, seeing heavily trashed designs from his father's time of owning the business, old, ratty T-Shirts that he'd gotten at a thrift store or another hanging up in his closet, and the look that he shot her whenever she came in, as if scared she was going to design something right in front of him. He needed to heal, and she did, too. She just didn't know that she did.

Marinette became the lady running the business, because her friend often was too unwell to bother trying, had hired her, because he trusted her, and knew that she knew fashion. He still asked her sometimes in that quiet voice that she hated to hear, if she was still designing. Her answer was always a flat, 'no.' She couldn't even look forward to baking at the bakery as there was an element of designing there that broke her heart. It was something different, but she'd felt the creativity die within her, and did not feel even the slightest urge to bring it back to life.

She spent hours arranging schedules, preparing for photoshoots months in advance, firing people, hiring new people, and letting models know when they had a photoshoot coming up. Many of her hours were spent visiting Adrien forcing him out of bed and making sure that he ate even though he really didn't want to; she'd fired his old dietician to hire one with the expectancy of Adrien working out way more. She knew that since he was Cat Noir that he likely spent many days being underfed, and she refused to let that remain a thing. It was hard to encourage him to face the day more often than not.

Marinette arranged his schedule for specified friend times, which surprised Alya and Nino, but no more than it had surprised her best friend that Marinette was now a secretary of a fashion empire and did not design any clothes, herself, anymore. She finally knew how Penny felt in a way, and sometimes at her darkest moments, she thought she knew how Nathalie felt. The name made her feel sick with memories and grief, so she wrestled it off.

* * *

"So, you have a photoshoot at seven tonight. If you're late, I'll go get you." Marinette bit back a half-hearted sigh, "So I expect you to be there."

"Okay." Adrien muttered, and she saw the flashes in his eyes of when he saw Nathalie in her. She had to be better than that.

"I arranged for you to hang out with Nino for most of the afternoon. I know you need it." Her voice went soft, and she liked to believe in these softer moments that being Ladybug hadn't potentially destroyed her.

"Thank you, Nath-Marinette." He corrected himself, and she had to remind herself that he needed someone like Nathalie now as much as it pained her to think of it. Something in his brokenness often broke her.

"You're welcome. I don't want you to hurt anymore." She shrugged, and she knew that she couldn't just take his pain away; it didn't work like that. "Be safe, and please don't be later than the sunset, preferably fifteen minutes before then, as the sunset will look great behind you, especially with the designs that our head designer designed."  
"How come you aren't the head designer?" It slipped out, before Adrien likely had time to think it over and reign it back in.

"You know, I can't be now. Just stay safe, Adrien, and we'll take some time off this weekend to just hang out someplace nice. It will do us both some good to not think about work." Marinette assured him, pretending that her heart didn't hurt and fracture at the memories. He'd lived with someone like Nathalie for so long, that Marinette knew that he couldn't picture his life without someone filling that role as both almost dictating and painful as that often was.

"I will. I'll see you later, Marinette." He tried his best to smile, and though she saw through it, she smiled back at him. Anything to relieve his pain.

* * *

She thinks that's how they fell in love: seeing each other so often and all of the friendly outings to get time off of work for the both of them. It's something that neither Nathalie or Gabriel would have decided for him, but Marinette hates the thought of working Adrien like a broken dog, too much especially while he suffers.

Marinette doesn't like long work weeks, and though every gossip magazine seemed to insist that they were leading the business down hill without Adrien designing the clothes, without Marinette and Adrien working on the weekends, and with the bad name already in the air about his father's business. She doesn't say a word about the gossip magazines, and she's pretty sure that Adrien hasn't seen them.

She wonders though whether they'll ever be more in love than whatever this is. It almost seems forced upon them, and she hates that, but she loves him. Marinette dusts off her worry for a moment and wonders if her younger self would have stomached just being a secretary and not a designer. It's an alternate career alright, but it's mainly fueled on by brokenheartedness and love that knows no other way to look after the other.

It's a long healing process, and one that Marinette isn't sure either of them are getting right, but maybe that's why they don't kiss. They hold back, both the old feelings from before, and the feelings born of heartbreak and heartache. She knows that whatever they have as convulated as it is, it's something, and she just hopes that the pain goes away as they both fall into careers that they never would have picked years ago, but they've came to feel some intense need for these careers and the laws and customs that shape them.


	29. Mominette

She doesn't quite know when she started designing again, when she let her fingers finally touch fabric after so long. Marinette isn't quite sure when, but when her daugher rushes in, happy and excited, gushing about school that day and about what she'd seen the head designer design on the way in, Marinette feels something in her heart blossom.

"Welcome back." It technically wasn't home, but Marinette couldn't deny that over the years, redecorating the place and gradually letting Nathalie and Gabriel's touch fade had done it wonders. Most of the few that they'd let stay after Gabriel and Nathalie's imprisonment had retired, and Marinette had easily replaced the ones lately. Their head designer though refused to retire until he either died or he saw the business off to great designing hands; his loyalty to the business and general dislike for the Akumas that used to roam Paris at all kinds of hours under his ex-boss's command were some of the main reasons that they kept him.

He was someone that they all felt that they could trust, and Emma often called him, "Grandpa," in lieu of having never really known her grandfather on her dad's side. She spent as many hours at Marinette's parents' bakery as she could, a place that Marinette now felt free to bake in once again. A step in the right direction that even Adrien had felt relieved by. She'd been there since before Emma was born and sometime after she'd married Adrien.

"Oh, Maman?" Emma paused, staring at the fabric in her mother's hands, "Are you designing clothes like Grandpa?" For a second, that innocent question drilled holes in her heart, and she had to shake it off. Emma's idea of Grandpa was not the same fashion designer as Marinette knew to be her daughter's paternal grandfather.

"Yeah, it's been a while." She twirled the fabric in her hands, wondering if she'd pull out one of her old notebooks or just try something new. Marinette desperately needed to come up with new ideas, but she did know now that more than likely she'd take over as head designer, as long as Adrien also approved.

He'd stopped modeling years ago, when she'd taken over the business right around the time that they'd gotten married, and she'd quickly replaced the butterfly symbols and the letter 'G' with better symbols, an 'M' that at the time seemed like a scary step, and a ladybug and a cat playing chase. It was nowhere near as formal looking, but it brought into the company something much more playful and lighthearted. She was absolutely positive that if Hawkmoth or Gabriel Agreste ever found out, he'd be so angry with her, but she found that she didn't care all that much how he felt anymore. There was that ever present disconnect from when he'd chosen to terrorize Paris for a costly dream, instead of raising his son.

Marinette smiled at her little girl and wondered how anyone could ever grow so cold to discard this kind of love: parent and child. Emma was still one of the best things to ever happen to her, and Adrien had been relieved that it was Emilie that she was named, when his mother's name just reminded him of Hawkmoth all over again.

They tried to live in a Post-Hawkmoth world as if he'd never existed, let alone terrorize Paris.

"It's really pretty. Will you make a dress?" She half-climbed up onto her mother's desk that was once her father's desk that was the replacement to the desk that Gabriel used to have here. They'd agreed a long time ago that the place had needed updated to better reflect them and not the man that had broken so many people before, even with what the Miraculous Cure healed, people don't like having been Akumatized, seeing the photos or the videos or the news reports. It's why she still considered him to have broken many people even though the memories of being Akumatized don't stay, the evidence remains, and so does everyone else's memories.

"I might. What do you think that I should make?" Marinette asked with the kind of smile that she could have remembered her mother and father giving to her years ago, the kind of smile that rarely leaves a parent's lips.

* * *

She was exhausted, but Marinette had to work half of a Saturday, a fashion show was coming up, and she'd needed to supervise her staff since they'd fallen behind and discuss with their head designer the main designs and ended up bouncing ideas off of each other. Marinette was so grateful that he was so compassionate and helped rally everyone to get it done earlier instead of stay all day for the highest kind of pay for that day.

Marinette wanted to collapse when she came in the door, but she found herself surprised by Adrien holding red and pink roses, a bouquet for her, and then Emma was by his one leg with a bright smile.

"Come in, Maman, come in." And Marinette was positive that she melted as she accepted the flowers from her husband, and her daughter's hand as she was led to the dining room, all decked out with an impressive banquet that she found it quite hard to imagine that they'd made, even though Adrien had come a long way with cooking. They'd refused to have a personal chef from pretty much the get-go, and now, she wondered how they'd managed to do all of this when she was just at work, not too far away.

"Most of its homemade, but we did have to go buy some food from Alya's mom." Adrien admitted. "We thought you'd be tired from working Saturday when you didn't want to."

"Oh, thank you." Marinette mumbled past the lump that formed in her throat, "How did I ever get so lucky to have a husband like you, let alone meet you, and to have such a remarkable young lady as a daughter?" She wasn't quite sure if it was just luck involved, either. It was surely a blessing and maybe karma, but it had to be something.

"We love you, Maman." Emma told her with the sweetest smile, "And, Papa says that you don't like to work more than five days a week, and I told him about the maybe dress, and he said that it was awesome." Emma paused her ramble to turn pink, "Oops."

"You think that it's awesome that I'm starting to design again?" Marinette could barely breathe; designing had been a lifetime joy before she'd given it up for a while, and to get it back was still hard to believe, though it was like learning to use an organ that had been so full of disuse for so long.

"Yeah. I was going to tell you tonight, too." Adrien smiled one of his radiant smiles that never failed to turn her stomach to goo even as his wife and the mother of his daughter.

"You're not worried that I'll become like your father?" She could barely stop the words from flowing from her lips, filled with nerves and trepidation as they were.

"You could never become like him, M'Lady." At that nickname, the weight fell off her shoulders, and she wondered why she'd waited so long to tell him.

"Come sit down. We worked hard." Emma held out a chair for her mother, the same seat that her mother almost always sat at.

"Okay, okay." Marinette was half-laughing, half-crying, but she still couldn't believe this: just how loved she was by the two of them.


	30. Breaking Point

She doesn't know why people insist on doing this; does she looked like a pushover to you? Does she look like she doesn't have to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders half of the time? She's exhausted and needs sleep and sometimes feels the residue of migraines and the aches of sleepless nights, and she isn't quite sure that she knows which way is left or right anymore, because her mind only seems capable of handling, that direction over there, or over there! She can barely even breathe past the strain of being Ladybug, and the fact that Hawkmoth keeps sending out Akumas every. single. day. She can't stand it, and then she has to work double and sometimes triple shifts in the bakery, because its a busy season, and her teachers think that because the semester is coming to a close that she needs five projects to do, fifteen papers or at least she's pretty sure its fifteen, some though are only two paragraphs long to two pages long though others are at least ten to twelve pages long, and the contest that she'd began working for just pushed its deadline sooner in the year, so she had to finish her submission in a week or two instead of three to four weeks.

Marinette isn't even sure that she knows what sleep is anymore, and then this happens. "Oh, Queen Bee needs a break, so can you cover for me, byebye!" Marinette had only been over to work on the group project between her, Chloe, Sabrina, and Alya; two of which were too busy to spend the day at Chloe's. Admittingly, Chloe had done nothing like this since becoming Queen Bee, and was likely stressed, since she'd been needed about three to five times a week, with Rena Rouge needed about four to five. Queen Bee probably just needed a break, but, dang it, Ladybug needed one more!

"Chloe, get your butt back over here! I have had less sleep this week than Queen Bee, sit down, and work on the project with me!" Naturally, Chloe had passed out almost instantly, when she'd retreated to her bed. Marinette felt a little bad for her, even as she felt ready to collapse. Queen Bee had less practice as a superhero and had never had to balance that many Akuma battles in a week, like Marinette used to with Cat Noir on bad weeks before this recent climb in activity.

Marinette stomped over to the bed, ignoring how lavish, it suddenly seemed, and how perfect for sleeping such a soft looking bed was. She yanked the blanket down off of the mayor's daughter and barely kept herself from growling as she shook her. "Get up!"

"B-But, I need my beauty sleep." Chloe looked genuinely scared which is probably why her intended shout turned into a whine at the end.

"I do too, but school doesn't just give us a chance for a break, neither does picking up extra shifts at the bakery, or seven Akumas this week. Get out of bed! You haven't had to fight against an Akuma at four thirty in the morning. We at least let you sleep." The angry words slowly sank in as Marinette continued to fight off the urge to actually start a fist fight with Chloe to relieve some of the built up stress. It wasn't worth it, and she didn't actually want to hurt her, just get away from this jumbled mess of a life for a mment.

"Oh." It wasn't an apology, but that was as good as she'd get as Chloe slipped out of bed, padded to the group assignment, "Get some sleep. I'll wake you up in about a half an hour or however long it takes me to get this paper thing done." It was a part of their group project to show that they knew how they got their answers and to teach the class about weird, random facts that they'd learned along the way. It insured that they weren't cheating by copying and pasting or rather plagiarizing.

"But...?" Marinette went to sit down to work with her; she wasn't a slacker even though she was absolutely exhausted.

"Get some sleep, LB. You're going to need it, and when you tell me who Cat Noir is, I'll tell him the same thing." Chloe sighed, "I'm not a worthless spoiled child, you know? Just get some sleep, before I change my mind." She tried to stifle a yawn that almost fell from her lips before Marinette could see it.

"Chloe..." Marinette paused as it finally registered just what she'd accidentally given away to Chloe, her secret identity, "I don't know Cat's."

"Good. Other than the fact that he's about at a breakdown too." Chloe sighed, "He needs sleep. Tell him if he's working on a group project to ask if he can take a quick cat nap. I think he'll like that one." Chloe threw over her shoulder; she'd calmed down, mellowed down some, working with them, and no longer held any kind of resentment to Cat Noir.

"Okay." Marinette sighed, but Chloe's bed felt soft to the touch, and she could barely keep her eyes open; they felt so heavy and stuck to her eyelids a great deal.

"Good." Chloe muttered under her breath as she saw Marinette climb into her bed out of the corner of her eye and fall asleep. That's not how she wanted to discover her partner in fighting crime's identity, but then again, she couldn't ask for better timing. At least she could do something about the lack of sleep, "Heroes and their breaking points." Chloe muttered, exhausted, but stubbornly holding on to what energy she had to work on this paper.

As long as Marinette slept and woke up to be a more alert Ladybug and a less stressed student, Chloe was okay. Bone tired was a lot less than so tired that your bones became mush, and it took real effort to keep your eyes open. Chloe could deal with bone tired, and she just hoped that what little bit was there was a huge help to the superhero that often inspired her.


	31. Kwami Swap

It's a long day, or at least it has the makings of a long day, and when Ladybug drops by, it feels like this was always how it was meant to be. Marinette moves to the alleyway without question, following the brunette as if she always had, even though it had only been a few months of this. Every now and again, Ladybug and Cat Noir needed help. The fact that the couple sometimes needed help, was enough to easily line up two to three streets full of people eager to help, if they ever made an announcement. Most people were too in awe of their relationship to feel jealous anymore, despite how often that was at the beginning.

"Ladybug?" Marinette shifted, the question was easy, so, too, was the surprise, even though in a way it was routine by this point.

"We need you today, Mari. Can I count on you?" She moved her reddish brown hair off to the side with a bright smile.

"Yeah. You can." Marinette accepted the Miraculous box, already feeling that thrill down deep in her belly, not unlike the first time that she'd been handed this Miraculous and asked to fight for Paris, though that first time was partly clouded by fear and anxiety that thankfully right now she didn't have to face off with. She knew that Ladybug didn't just ask for the first person off of the street to help her out; she chose very carefully. That's why Queen Bee was such a surprise, though Carapace made sense, though whenever all four were there, minus Chloe, sometimes Marinette wondered why she'd been forced to deal with turtle puns for the better part of an hour.

It was easy to get tired of 'Shelly's' puns or so Cat Noir called him, when he was very tired of all the puns too. Marinette didn't blame him, though she'd deliberately ignore how that nickname was a pun in itself.

"Trixx, let's dance!" And, that rush of warm energy flowed through her, and Marinette became Rena Rouge, eager to run across the rooftops and to play the flute and to just sort of feel that sizzle of power beneath the surface that she'd grown so fond of. Admittingly, she had enough self-restraint to follow Ladybug instead of just blindly rushing off.

* * *

The ends of Akuma battles or helping out were always the worst; she had to say 'bye to Trixx, had to let the orange energy flee from her, and give Ladybug a quick hug goodbye as she handed her the Miraculous. She didn't tell that many people, but Ladybug was the one that was often inspiring Marinette and showing her just how to be a better superhero whenever she became one to help out.

Marinette paused to let her powers fade and slip away from her as she held her stance out of more will than anything else. Ladybug smiled back at her, "I'm sorry that you can't hold on to Trixx after battles." She hadn't before spoken to Marinette about that before or at least not like that.

"I have to do what I have to do." Marinette recited, "Besides, if it makes things safer for you, I'm fine with giving it up." She had to put the safety and wellbeing of the main superheroes before the desire of being able to hang out with Trixx night and day. Trixx was the type of Kwami that beyond her kindness, she was the sort to have fun, fun-loving. Marinette was grateful for the kind of friendship that they'd only been able to barely form. There might be time to talk longer some other day, in the future.

"Yeah, but I wish I didn't make you have to sacrifice so much, because Tikki's amazing, and I get to spend so much time with her, and you could just a small amount of time with Trixx." Ladybug sighed, shaking her head.

"It's okay, Ladybug." Marinette answered, "You and Cat Noir are the real heroes anyway."  
"Nonsense. You are just as much of a hero as we are, and so is Carapace, and I'm reluctant to say, but so is Queen Bee. One day, I hope that you'll be able to join our team much more permanently." Ladybug frowned in deep thought before she heard those tell tale beeps, "'Bye, Rena, and remember that you are a true hero!" And, Ladybug was off.

Marinette smiled, because every moment talking to Ladybug was so cool, and because Trixx truly was already a major part of her life without being in as much of her life as she wished she was. Marinette knew that on some other day, the need for Rena Rouge would arrive again, and she'd get a chance to really save the day once more, and hopefully many more times after that.


End file.
